Absence
by Vayluh Arwen
Summary: Sequel to APaH. Long years have passed, and Albion has changed and adapted after the loss of its four Heroes. But a new threat is rising, one posing far more danger than anything mere mortals can wreck. All things must come to dust. Fable c Lionhead.
1. Watching

**Watching**

When the heavy rain finally dried up and the black thunderclouds cleared, the figure outside the tall thin house did not lower its hood. It stayed perfectly still, perfectly silent, seemingly oblivious of the way the rain had drenched through its robes, the way water spilled out of the clothing onto the muddy floor. The figure didn't move, the way it hadn't moved for so many hours now, standing and watching, eyes fixed on the house in front of it.

Then finally came a time - weeks, months, years into its watch - that the figure twitched. The hooded face turned, slowly, wrenching its gaze off the house and to the path behind. There was a moment of silence again. Then the figure disappeared into nothing.

A few moments later the sound of horseshoes came into being. A carriage, rich in red and gold, pulled by three grand horses, pulled into the wide gravel entrance. The horses whinnied and snorted, still damp from the recently departed rain. The carriage pulled up very close to the imposing house's entrance, and, after a few seconds, the door swung open.

A booted foot exited the coach, followed by a man just as rich and extravagant as his transportation. He adjusted a fur-lined cape, and then languidly took the steps up to the manor. He waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder to the driver of the coach, not bothering to turn, and then put his hand on the brass door handle, retrieving a key from an inside pocket.

As the man slipped through the door, the hooded figure reappeared silently in his spot. The driver didn't turn, and, even if he did, would have seen nothing out of the ordinary. The figure watched the closed door with a cold, calculated interest.

Well well. Seemed that now there wasn't only _one_ person interested in Bloodstone Mansion...


	2. Housewarming

**Housewarming**

The Pirate King moved silently into his house, and smiled. He could have sent an envoy to light the fires and get his little coastal paradise ready before he had arrived, but he found himself somewhat fond of the house when it was in this state, empty and quiet. And, besides, it was not so cool. Quite warm, in fact.

In fact... _very_ warm.

Reaver frowned. He slid his travelling cloak off his shoulders, slowly, reflexively brushing across his holster, his Dragonstomper. He threw the cloak over the banister, and then stayed still for a moment. There was a fire in the other room, the study. He could see the flickering light under the partially opened door. Some street brat? Some cur sheltering from the cold in _his home_? Well. That just wouldn't do. He drew the legendary pistol, hand sliding instinctively into the optimum position on the grip.

He walked a few steps forwards, looking around him. His frown deepened. He had thought it would be some knave taking advantage of an open house, but this to him looked... _homely_. A dozen or so coats hung on the hooks by the door, all bright and vibrant - and _rich_. This wasn't some street brat. This was someone who was probably almost as wealthy as _him_.

The realisation came to him in a shock: _someone had __**bought**__ his home_! His costal paradise! Someone had _bought_ it!

Anger filled him, followed swiftly by a grim anticipation - he would find this man foolish enough to purchase his manor and shoot him straight through the head. _No_-one got one up on Reaver. _No_-one.

He moved silently to the door, and pushed it open a little. The hinges didn't squeak - at least this mysterious person was taking _care_ of the Mansion in his absence - and he moved further into the study, silently.

There was someone sitting at the desk - reading, by the looks of things. They didn't look up, didn't notice him. He couldn't see very well because of the placing of the door, but it looked like a girl. Well. No matter. He'd just shoot her in her pretty little head. Didn't matter _who_ she was, really. But, first... he wanted to know why. He didn't have the patience to play, but he was curious as to what possessed this little thing to make such a... _fatal_ decision.

_Must be suicidal_, he mused, thoughtfully, _Poor young wench._

He prowled closer, trying to get a better view of her. He took a silent step to the left, and, suddenly, she was thrown into light.

* * *

The girl sitting at the table was, no other word for it, exquisite. She was a little older than he had previously thought, maybe just about gracing twenty-two. Her golden blonde hair was pulled back from her china-like face into a ponytail and dreadlocked - a style which he usually thought looked hideously cheap, but, on her, strangely worked. Her hair was so long that a lock of it still managed to cloud her face, but he could see dark brown eyes with heavy black lashes surveying the book in front of her, lit up with interest at whatever it was she was reading.

Her clothing immediately caught Reaver's attention. She was wearing... well... a _pirate_ outfit. Almost a pirate _wench_ outfit, or, at least, pretty close. Her corseted top was red and black and tight against her body, the sleeves off the shoulders, flaring at the lower arms and tight at the wrists and elbows. The ensemble was coupled by a flared red skirt with a black lace petticoat, barely coming down to her knees. The material looked like velvet. A black pirate hat was on a hook on the wall behind her, which she had appeared to have attached a red bow to. She had short leather boots on her feet, brown with large rectangular buckles, which were - he noted with a wince - propped up on his chair.

However... there were... _other_ parts of the scene that drew his attention. Her long legs were strong and bare, her skin pure, leading Reaver's gaze inexorably up to her so short skirt and what could lie beneath it. Mmm. Maybe more fun could be had with his home's current occupier than he had thought...

The pirate smirked, and closed the door behind him with a snap. The girl continued reading to the end of her page, and then glanced up.

* * *

Her fragile yet powerful beauty hit him again. Her skin was like porcelain, and she had painted on a gentle makeup that made her eyes glow. She had a huge animal tooth hanging from a chain around her neck. Fragile yet powerful. She would look like if she moved a step she'd shatter into pieces... if it weren't for the daggers in her belt.

At seeing a strange man in what she probably considered her house, armed, her face remained completely stoical. She paused for a moment, and then, slowly, looked him up and down. When she was finished, her eyes returned to his face, "Who are you."

God, what an accent. Not the drawl the scum of Bloodstone had picked up. This was something else. Something far more sophisticated, far more proper. And soft - her words slid off her lips like honey.

"I could ask the very same question, my dear," Reaver replied, silkily. She just looked at him, and he raised an eyebrow, "I'm sorry, were you expecting someone else?"

"I must say I was, actually." She paused for a moment, looking him over again, "Where is she?"

"She?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow, "Sister? Friend?" he watched her for a moment, a smile playing at his lips, "_Companion_?"

"None of the above. Where is she."

A hint of danger had moved into her voice, and he smiled again, "I assure you, pet, since I have entered this house I have laid eyes on no-one but you." His smile grew, "Not that I'm complaining."

"I don't believe you."

She put down her feet, making to rise, and he fluidly pulled out his pistol, pointing it at her, "No no no, please, my dear, don't get up. Trust me, I prefer you where you are."

Her eyes locked onto his weapon, immediately, and, oddly, she frowned a little, "Is that a Dragonstomper?"

Reaver raised an eyebrow, "I'm sorry?" he couldn't suppress his surprise.

She gave a small, grim smile, "I know my guns, good sir. It's a Dragonstomper, isn't it. Let me think... Dragonstomper... .48?"

A small pause was all he needed to get back on his feet. He gave her a smooth smile, "Indeed it is, my dear. Now, as much as I adore my little pet names, I would much prefer to know the real thing. What is it?"

"Liliana." He cocked an eyebrow, and the slightest smile twitched at her lips, "_Lily_."

"_Lily_..." he savoured the name, eyes wandering casually as he considered it. He gave a small smile, "Beautiful."

"Thank you. And what about yourself. It is customary, when asking for a lady's name, to give your own."

"My dear Lily, I believe little is customary when a pistol of this finery is involved."

"On the contrary," she replied, smiling a little, "I believe customs are _more_ definite when a weapon is involved - the finery of the weapon aside."

Reaver looked at her. She dared contradict him? "You don't _know_ my name?"

"You didn't know _mine_."

"Yes, of course, but I'm afraid I am... a rather different case."

She smiled, "As am _I_."

He looked at her again. That voice... that face... _God_, she was so _familiar_. _Liliana_... No, he was sure he would have remembered such an exotic name if he had heard it before. There was a hint of amusement in her chocolate-brown eyes, and, as he looked at her, he felt his frustration build. It was if she were _toying_ with him. The nerve of the girl! It was _his_ job to play. He'd had far more practice.

Reaver decided to remind the girl of this fact. He took a few steps forwards, and, this time, when she rose to match his added height, he didn't stop her. Instead, he moved closer, until they were about an inch apart. She stayed still, didn't back away. Reaver brought up his Dragonstomper again and stroked the line of her cheek with the barrel, gently, and then her lips. His heart was starting to beat hard in his chest. _Liliana_ stayed perfectly still, watching him through those beautiful doe eyes, not a sliver of fear on her face.

"Now," he said, his voice a low, soft purr, "This is how this is going to work. You're going to explain to me who you are... and just what exactly you are doing residing in my house."

The girl raised a sceptical, surprised eyebrow, "_Your_ house?"

He pushed the barrel a little deeper into her cheekbone until she flinched slightly, "_Yes_, _my_ house." He gave her a moment to let the message sink in, and then shook his head, "But... perhaps I could be convinced to allow you to stay..." He moved his pistol over her neck. Black velvet straps of something that could have been a back holster crossed over her shoulders, and he pushed one down with the barrel, slowly, "...for a night or so, at any rate. Except... if I were to do that... I am afraid I would require something in return."

"And just what is it that you would... _require_."

A flash of a memory went through him, but his desire easily overcame it, and he smiled, slowly, "Need you really ask?"

She raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent. He moved the Dragonstomper again, down to between her exposed collarbones. He applied a little pressure, pushing down her vibrant red top about an inch. Liliana didn't move. He leaned closer until his lips were inches from hers and he could feel her breath on his skin. He felt her muscles tense.

"Get the _fuck_ away from her."


	3. Fatal Decisions

**Fatal Decisions**

"I _said_:" she cocked the weapon, deftly, pointing it towards his head with steady hands, "Get the _fuck __**away**_ from her."

Reaver looked up, slowly, but didn't turn. A smile played at his lips, "But I know that voice..."

"Don't make me tell you again, Pirate." She said, her voice low with warning.

"And that level of obscenity, too. But it _can't_ be..."

"_Pirate_."

He turned his head, looking at her, and his smile broadened, "_Sparrow_!"

Jaina looked at him, eyes cold, "Evening. I believe I've told you not to call me that."

"Hmm, I think I recall something along that line, also. But what else are old friends for?"

"You know him?" Lily asked, interested, moving her gaze back and forth between the two Heroes.

"Yes." She replied, her voice clipped, "I do, unfortunately."

"Oh, and here I was thinking he was a random stranger wandering into the house." She looked him over again, slightly more indifferently, "Pity."

Reaver raised an eyebrow, looking vaguely surprised, "Well, aren't _you_... _something_." He looked her up and down, "How on earth did _you_ two get together?"

"_Get together_?" Liliana repeated, frowning slightly, "What are you talking about? Who _is_ he?"

Sparrow shook her head, "You don't wanna know. Trust me. Now. Listen to me, pirate. Get the hell out of here. _Now_. Get out of here right now and I won't shoot you."

He laughed, silkily, and shook his head, "Oh, my dear Sparrow. You really think you're going to be the one to call the shots here? No pun intended, of course."

He stepped back a little, and Jaina finally caught sight of his damned Dragonstomper, levelled casually at Lily's heart.

Her own heart missed more than a beat, "Leave her alone."

"You care for her?"

"Yes. Leave her alone."

"How much have you improved, my dear?" he asked, smirking, "Since the _last_ time you tried to outdraw me. Is it enough? Will you be able to stop me before I -"

"_Don't_." she said, emphatically, her heart now pounding in her chest, trying desperately to stop her emotion from showing on her face, "Don't." She paused for a moment, looking at him, and then shook her head, "I'll put down my gun."

Lily shook her head, disdainfully, "Don't worry about me, let him _try_."

"Shut up, Liliana." She raised her pistol so it was no longer pointed at the pirate's head, angling it away from him towards the ceiling, putting up her other hand, empty, "See? Take the gun away from her."

"Put it down." She barely moved a step towards the desk before he shook his head, "No, not there, no, I think that's a little too close for comfort. Over by the door, if you please."

Sparrow hesitated, and then nodded, and slowly did as he said, placing her pistol down on the floor. She took a few steps back, "Now. Your turn. Let her go."

He smiled, pleasantly, "Oh, I don't think so, my dear." His eyes moved over her, casually, "Not... _quite_ yet, anyway."

"Still playing boundaries, then?" she asked, cautiously, her eyes on his pistol.

He gave a soft smirk, "Always. Now come here."

She looked at him for a moment. Then her eyes glimmered onto Lily and her heart decided for her. She moved towards him, slowly. His eyes stayed on hers for a moment, and then flickered over her again, lingering consistently, just as he had always done.

Jaina watched him, impassively. She found herself thinking about what she looked like back then - back during her 'Lucien phase', as Lily called it - and how different she must look now.

She was still the same height, probably - tall, but not overly so. Her crystal white hair was still cut short, stroking her collarbone, and her eyes still glowed crimson from the spell the Shadow Court had cast on her. She had a fringe now; she guessed that was new. There was also the makeup she'd started wearing. Not much, just kohl around her blood-red eyes, enough to darken them a little. Something she'd picked up from the locals. Her now slightly tanned skin still glowed with the bright blue Will lines tracing her figure... nothing new there...

Her clothes had changed, she supposed. The corset-and-shorts thing she had going on back then died out a long time ago. Now she wore a highwayman's outfit. Guess it wasn't so new after _all_... She was wearing a pair of tight leather trousers, black, and a matching jacket that fell down just above her knees. The jacket was left unbuttoned, exposing a blue cloth shirt that clung to her frame, and two long brown boots were on her feet. A red velvet scarf was tied around her neck. She had discarded her back holster years ago, but still had her weapons within reach - old habits die hard - in a thick belt around her hips. However, it was at the moment empty. Her Daichi was upstairs in her room, where she had left it when she came down to investigate who had been at the door.

And then there were the scars. When she had first met Reaver, there had been quite a few. Lashings from the Spire and the marks of the collar on her neck, that one word down her left arm, and, of course, the bullet wound. That scar over her heart was bigger now where Fairfax had not quite got the exact right positioning on his second attempt, and was now joined by another below it from a few years back, whose origins she couldn't really remember.

If she weren't wearing her jacket - not that she ever ventured further than the bedroom door without something covering her arms - more scars would appear. These ones she knew exactly where they came from. And more, others - bullet wounds, knife wounds, broken bones, fixed herself, scratches, bites, she'd lost count of them now. Fortunately, the only one that marred her face was one long line down her right cheek. A present from a particularly persistent bandit leader, cocky bastard.

But it wasn't just a change of looks. Reaver was in for one hell of a shock. Long years had passed. _Twenty-three_, as a matter of fact, almost to the _day_. And she had changed... quite a bit.

She looked at him through cold red eyes. Her mind was calculating. As soon as he shifted, even an inch... she would make her move.

He obviously hadn't finished his appraisal: "Come closer."

"Don't." Lily said. Jaina looked at her. The young girl was wearing a small, lopsided smile. Her eyes glittered. "Let me take care of him."

"Lily, don't."

"You think I can't best him?"

"I don't know. But I'm not going to test it and neither should you. Understood?"

She shook her head, "Yes _ma'am_..."

Reaver raised an eyebrow, amused, "You _really_ care for her... Has something finally cut through that cold Hero's heart?" she didn't reply, and his smile grew, "Let's test it, shall we? Come closer."

She moved forwards, slowly, silently, eyes locked on his. They were less than a foot away, close enough for him to touch her. She was viciously wishing that he would.

_One move, pirate. __**Your**__ move._

He looked her up and down again, this time his eyes flickering over her face, "It's been over two decades since we last met, my dear. And you... you haven't aged a day."

"_You_ have." She replied, coldly, knowing exactly what affect the words would have on him, her mind urging him to snap, "Is that why you're here? For the Seal?"

Reaver seemed to be about to give a scathing reply, but he was interrupted: "The _Seal_?" Lily looked at them for a second, eyes widening as realisation spread over her, "Oh, no. You don't... you don't mean... that _he's_..."

Sparrow gave a low, weary sigh, "And realisation occurs... Well. Time for introductions, I see. Liliana, this is Reaver, the Hero of Skill. Reaver, this is Liliana." She hesitated, and then shook her head, "My daughter."

* * *

The two stared at her. They were both wearing the same expressions of complete surprise. Jaina's eyes were flickering between the pirate and his weapon.

Lily still seemed shocked: "_This_ is _Reaver_?"

Reaver's eyes moved over the girl in front of him, "_This_ is your _daughter_?"

"Yes. Liliana - Reaver. Reaver - Liliana."

They looked at each other for a moment. Their surprise seemed to fade simultaneously, but Lily was the first to speak: "Well." she stated, smoothing down her unashamedly tight top, "_Reaver_. Thanks for the grand introduction."

He smirked, regaining his cool as easily as she was, "Dear Lily, I would have it no other way."

"Hmm. You know, some day, I'd like to find out what gives you Heroes this superiority complex of yours..."

Reaver raised an eyebrow, and then smiled slowly, "Well, my dear, if you're a good girl, some day I might show you."

"I have to be a good girl?" she echoed his smile, leaning towards him, "How _restricting_."

Jaina grimaced, "Liliana, are you trying to make your mother sick? If so, you're doing a grand job."

"Sorry, Mama." She shot Reaver a wink, "Perhaps later."

She sighed, "Lily, you do realise that whilst you're trying your hand at being coquette, this man has a pistol to your chest?"

She copied her sigh, but this time with a playful smile, "Oh yes, of course. Back to business, as always. Shall I get rid of him, Mama?"

"I think that would be good, yes, Lily."

"Get rid of him?" Reaver repeated, sceptically, "I very much doubt it will be that easy, my dear."

She nodded, "Of course, of course. Though, of course, it will be a lot easier now she has a gun to your head."

* * *

Reaver glanced round, and Lily rewarded the movement with an increase of pressure on his temple, "Please - _don't_ move. I wouldn't want to shoot you on this carpet. It took weeks to get out the _last_ batch of bloodstains."

He paused, "I know that pistol."

"Mm, you should. As it knows you, the killer of its prior owner."

"The Red Dragon."

She nodded, "Correct, Reaver, congratulations. But I'm willing to bet you don't remember the name of the _owner_ so easily."

He shook his head, a small, dangerous smile playing around his lips, "I'd remember _yours_."

She smiled, not at all fazed by the semi-veiled threat, "Liliana is such a... _memorable_ name." She shot a glance at her mother, "Not that it isn't a _valued_ one, of course."

"Of course." Jaina echoed, smiling slightly. Then she looked back at the pirate, "Now, Reaver. Maybe you better rethink my offer."

He raised an eyebrow, casually, "And why is that?"

"Because, while _I_ may not be much cop with a pistol, I think I know someone who _is_." She nodded at her daughter, smiling slightly, "_Her_. You've heard of the Westcliff shooting range, of course?"

"Naturally. I set the record."

"Uh, actually, you set the record up 'til about this time two years ago." She gave him a small, mockingly-apologetic smile, "Now there's a new record. _Hers_."

"I got two-hundred and sixty-three points in five minutes." Lily added, sharing the same smile as her mother, "All from headshots. Save one, unfortunately, but no-one's perfect, of course..."

"She's been mourning that one missed shot for two years."

"Wooden targets don't prove much for fighting against, of course." She gave another sparkling smile, "But, I assure you, I am quite adept in shooting _living_ targets, too." She glanced at Jaina, "Should I kill him?"

She didn't hesitate: "Yes. Shoot him."

Reaver raised an eyebrow, looking slightly surprised, "My word, was that decisive action? Is this the same Hero of Albion I have come to know?"

"No." she replied, coldly, "I'm not."

He nodded, thoughtfully, "Evidentially not... The one _I_ remember couldn't even shoot the man who murdered her _sister_..." he paused, giving a slow smile, "_And_ her precious Michael."

Jaina let out something close to a growl and took an angry step forwards.

"Mama." Lily said, sharply. She paused, and then glanced at her. Her daughter raised an eyebrow, meaningfully. She paused for a moment, and then nodded, reluctantly. She let her anger fade, filled with that strange sort of grudging frustration you get when you've been denied a fight.

Reaver watched the scene with a small smile, "Well well. And just what are you, my dear, that can change a Hero's mind?"

Lily looked at him for a second, and then gave a slow, mischievous smirk, "I'm a _pirate_."

He nodded, "Ah, of course."

"And that's the difference between her and me. Mama's an amazing fighter. Solid, determined, ferocious as hell... but if that was me I'd have shot Fairfax straight through the head without a second's thought."

"Yes, thank you, Lily," the elder replied, sharply, "I know your opinion of my choice well."

Reaver turned his smile on her, "Mm, you _have_ changed. So cold, even to your own flesh and blood... The Sparrow I knew would do _any_thing for her family..." he looked at her for a second, smiling slightly at her forcefully suppressed anger. Then he leant towards her, "Would you _shoot_ me, dear Sparrow?"

"In a heartbeat." She promised, fiercely.

"Ah. Of course. _But_, however..." he paused, and then nodded to his right, at Lily, "Would you let _her_ shoot me."

Lily raised an eyebrow, "Does it make a difference?"

But the pirate kept his eyes on hers, smiling a soft, knowing smile, "_Well_, Sparrow? _Does_ it?"

Jaina looked at him. Her heart fluttered in her chest. The words had brought something up in her, a realisation. Yes. Yes, it did. But not because she was concerned for her daughter - that girl had taken her first kill even younger than _she_ had, and now she was a _pirate_, for Avo's sake. No, that wasn't it. _She_ wanted to kill him. _That_ was it. She wanted to kill him. She wanted it with all her heart. She wanted to look him in the eyes and put a bullet in his brain.

Something of her thoughts must have showed in her eyes, for the pirate smirked again, "Ah, there it is. The desire for the kill... Not something I would have normally associated with _you_, dear Sparrow... The selfless, God fearing _Hero_..."

"I fear no God." She replied, slowly, "Not any more."

He cocked his head slightly to one side, thoughtfully, "Then _why_. Why does it have to be you. Just out of curiosity. Why do _you_ have to be the one to kill me." She just looked at him, not saying a word, and he shook his head, "Well, I suppose I could hazard a _guess_. Let me see, it's going to be something personal. As much as my... _activities_... irritated you, I doubt they would cause you to feel such against me. So... personal... anger... _revenge_, maybe?" he gave a small smirk, "Unless, of course, I have something you want."

She shook her head, sceptically, "Pirate, there is absolutely _nothing_ you have that I am missing out on."

"I wouldn't be so sure, darling." She narrowed her eyes, and he smiled again, "So. Revenge it is, then. Oh, my dear, you never change, do you?"

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow, slowly. Revenge? Maybe. Not the word she'd choose, though. More... _debt_. Responsibility. Rectification. An obligation. From a long time ago.

"_I am going to kill him."  
_"_Leave that to me."  
_"_No. When this is all over, when Lucien's dead... I will find him and I will kill him."  
_"_Michael, he's a __**Hero**__! __**Think**__ about it! You can't just -"  
_"_I don't care if he's Jack of Blades himself. Understand me?"_

Michael swore he would kill him. But he died before he got his chance. Fairfax murdered him before the day had passed. Michael couldn't kill him. She could. And she _would_.

But _how_.

"Mama." Lily said, slowly, "We have to kill him. He won't let this go. He has to die."

Reaver raised an eyebrow, eyes flickering over her, smiling, slowly, "Well well. A girl after my own heart."

"Oh, I doubt you have a heart, Reaver." She replied, smiling, charmingly.

He laughed, "Of course, of course..."

"_Mama_." Lily repeated, eyes locked on hers.

Jaina barely heard her. Her eyes flickered over the situation in front of her. Reaver still had his beloved Dragonstomper to Lily's chest. If Jaina moved for her pistol or tried anything with her Will, he would shoot her. Or _she_ would shoot _him_. Neither did she want, in any way. She couldn't let either happen.

So what could she do? Feed him along, tell Liliana to put down her pistol, wait for him to slip up and then shoot a bolt of lightning through his torso? No, too risky, he could just kill Lily for the hell of it. He did that, sometimes.

She shook her head, slowly, a reluctant realisation moving over her. She knew what she had to do. But that didn't mean she had to like it. "I've made up my mind."

"Is that so?" he asked, silkily, "Well, by all means, continue."

She looked at him for a long time, and then shook her head again, "Give us twelve hours. We will be out of this house tomorrow morning. It will be all yours by first light. Just give us twelve hours... and the manor is yours."

* * *

Reaver cocked an eyebrow, and Jaina felt grim amusement that he still expressed his surprise the same way even after all these years, "My dear Sparrow. Are you... _conceding_?"

"I'm compromising, actually." She looked at his scepticism and shook her head, impatiently, "There'll be another time. _You're_ obviously not going anywhere, not with your little _Seal_. And it's quite apparent that _I'm_ not going anywhere, due to..." she paused, delicately, "..._unverified reasons_..." She looked at him for a second, "We've got all the time in the world."

"So I am to expect your return?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"This started between you and me. This will _end_ between you and me."

He laughed, "If you think yourself a match for me, my dear, then by all means."

She gave a sharp bark of a laugh, "Reaver, I took a direct gunshot to the heart and woke up an hour later with a slight headache. _Twice_. Do not underestimate me, Reaver, or what lengths I will go to."

"And just what lengths are they, exactly?"

"You know exactly where my line is." She glanced at her daughter, who was watching the scene with mild interest, and then back to him, "My line is _her_. That's why I'm doing this." She paused for a moment, stabilising herself, "Twelve hours. Then everyone's happy. Do we have a deal?"

There was a long pause, where Reaver just looked at her with something close to amused suspicion.

"Dear Sparrow," he said, silkily, holstering his weapon, lazily, "We have a deal."

Jaina drew in a breath, "Good. Good."

It wasn't good. It killed her to have to make this decision. But, even now he had his pistol holstered, she knew she couldn't outdraw him. That had already been made painfully obvious over twenty years ago.

Jaina turned to her daughter, nodding at her pistol, "Lily, put it away."

Liliana paused for a moment. A small, lopsided smile still lingered on her lips, her eyes locked on the pirate's. Then she shook her head, smirking again, and lowered her pistol, pulling up her skirt slightly so she could get to the holster on her upper thigh, pushing the Red Dragon back in its place.

The pirate's eyes followed the movement, and her smile deepened, "Please don't stare. It makes a lady uncomfortable."

"Yet you yourself seem quite at ease." He replied, echoing her smile, "I hope I was not wrong about you after all."

She gave a light, twinkling laugh, shaking her head, and Jaina rolled her eyes, taking a few steps forwards, "That is... _quite_ enough. Reaver. If you would _please_..."

She put a hand on his shoulder, lightly enough to not provoke his trigger-happy streak but firmly enough to let him know she wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. She moved him out of the study, back out to the door, and opened it.

She nodded at the coach outside, curtly, "I guess this is goodbye. For _now_."

He smirked, "Yes, I guess it is." He glanced lazily over his shoulder at his carriage, and then back to her. His smile grew, "But, whilst you're in the neighbourhood... seeing as I'm technically homeless for a night... why don't I spend it here? I'm sure I could keep your mind off your troubles."

She raised an eyebrow, and then shook her head, disgustedly, "You want somewhere to spend the night? Try a nice brothel. I've heard there's quite a sophisticated one just down the road from here. Should be _right_ up your _street_."

Then without another word she slammed the door in his face.

* * *

Lily moved around the corner, glancing at her, "Shouldn't you move away from the door? You know, in case he decides to try blasting it."

"No, I doubt he'd shoot a hole through the front door of a house he is about to move into."

She nodded, "Okay. So. What do we do?"

"We do exactly what I said we'd do. We get out of here." Jaina looked at her, "It's like you said, he won't let this go. If we don't leave this would never end. We'd be at war until one of us was dead, or we gave him back the mansion. That's just how he is."

"And how _you_ are."

"Exactly. So... I'm conceding now. We get out of here. Hell, it's been a nice couple of decades. But..." she looked at her for a second, "I'd do anything for you, you know that, don't you."

"I know, Mama."

"Good." She paused, and then shook her head, turning to the stairs, "Now. Something tells me tomorrow's going to be... _hectic_, at least. I'd suggest you get some sleep."

"Mm... maybe not _quite_ yet." The girl shot her a small, charming smile, "Mr Gavel is still upstairs, after all."

Jaina winced and shook her head, rolling her eyes at the audacity in her daughter's tone, "Okay, whatever, I don't want to know. Goodnight, Lily."

"Night, Mama."


	4. After Effects

**After Effects**

It was cold. Jaina looked around her room, warily. She paused, and then shook her head, getting up from her bed and crossing over to the window. She checked it. Shut and locked. She hesitated again, frowning.

A noise from downstairs startled her, a light smack, a bang. She froze, waiting. Nothing. She was just about to give up and go back to bed when she heard it again, _bang, bang._

She immediately turned to her door, looking at it. She took a few slow steps forwards, walking through the open door. She stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down, "Lily?" she called, frowning slightly, looking around her, "_Lily_?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Jaina hesitated. She looked down into the darkness. Then she shook her head, ridding herself of her ridiculous fear, slipped on a pair of shoes and tip-tapped her way down the stairs, tightening her robe around her at the cold.

The front door was open. The sea wind blew in gusts through the entrance, smacking the door back against the wall, _bang, bang, bang_. Jaina moved towards it, slowly. She reached out with both hands, and shut it, leaning on the wood to make sure it was shut tight. The key was in the lock, and she turned it and then placed it into her pocket. She shook her head and turned, about to go back upstairs. Then she stopped again.

There was a light coming from the study. A low, flickering light. She moved towards it, her heart fluttering in her chest, "Liliana? Is that you?"

No answer. Goosebumps spread along her skin, and, as much as she would have loved to blame it on the cold, she knew that it wasn't one hundred percent the case.

Her fingers brushed the door, and then pushed, gently. It slid open without a creak. There was a small fire in the hearth, flickering. Lit recently. She took a step towards it, and her foot crunched on something. She glanced down. Glass. Glass from the clock that had previously sat on the mantelpiece. Now it was on the floor, shattered.

Something caught her eye, and she crouched down, running a finger along the carpet. She brought it up to her face, and it was stained with black, like coal. Gunpowder.

She got to her feet, immediately, yanking out her pistol, holding it ready. Her heart pumped in her chest. But everything was silent. Not a soul.

She let out a low, frustrated snarl, "_Reaver_! _Where_ are you!"

"It's not Reaver."

* * *

Jaina spun round and something grabbed her arm, wrenching her pistol out of her hand, deftly, throwing it out of her reach. She glanced back over her shoulder at it, quickly, and then back again. Then she froze.

The man in front of her gave a slow, dark smile, "But it could just be the next best thing."

She looked at him, fear attacking her, backing away, slowly, "No. No, you're supposed to be dead. You're _dead_."

The Commandant gave a small smirk, "Yes. Yes, of course I am, 273. As if the efforts of a Crucible pit dog like yourself could kill a being of the Spire."

"I cut open your throat! I stayed and watched you _bleed_! _You were __**dead**_!"

"And you're sure about that, are you?" she said nothing, and he smiled, slowly, "I was Lucien's chosen one, 273. I'm not some mere minion. You'll find I'm a lot more difficult to kill."

"But... but..." she shook her head, quickly, "No. No, it's not... it's not..."

He took a step towards her and she immediately took one back. He laughed, and the sound sent a shudder down her spine, "I've been waiting. _Long years_. Waiting for the _opportune moment_. Biding my time in the Spire."

She shook her head again, "The Spire has been deactivated."

"_Has_ it?" he asked, silkily, "Or is it just _waiting_? Waiting for its next activation, the _next wish_."

"What... what are you _talking_ about."

"Well..." he took another step and Jaina felt her back hit the bookcase against the wall, "Who do you know who has seen the Spire... who didn't return with you to the mainland... who remained behind... _'alone'_."

"What are you..." realisation hit her in a shock, followed by anger, "Theresa would _never_ do that!" she began, fiercely, "She would _never_ -"

"And how d'you know _that_, little Sparrow? Do you know _anything_ about this woman, this _Seer_, this witch?"

She looked at him, her heart pounding, "I..."

He smiled again, "_Exactly_. You have no _idea_ of what she would do, of how far she would go." He paused, watching her for a second, a vicious anticipation in his yellow eyes, "Now... let us see how much you've learned..."

He took a step forwards and she automatically drew her Daichi, striking out. But in a second he was behind her, a dagger to her throat, his spare hand wrenching the weapon from her grip, letting it drop to the floor with a clatter, "You disappoint me, Sparrow. I'd have thought I'd at _least_ get a _fight_ out of you. Seems you've gone a little downhill since your departure, hmm? _Look_ at you. You're _nothing_, 273. You can barely _stand_." Then he looked her over a bit more carefully. A frown passed over his face, followed by realisation and a grim smile, "But, _oh_... what's this? Hmm?"

His hand strayed down her arm and onto her chest, sliding down over her stomach, the bulge there. He gave a small, malicious smile.

Sparrow fought with his touch and he forced the knife closer to her throat, freezing her still as a sliver of blood leaked down her neck. His hand kept moving, pressing down gently but firmly, and she felt the baby inside her move against his touch.

He felt it too. He smirked again, and she shivered, reflexively. He moved her chin with the knife, forcing her head round so she was facing him, hand still pressing down on her stomach, "Dear little Michael strikes again, I suppose? Except _he's __**dead**_. Found another one already? Always knew you were a whore."

"Let go of me." She managed, her voice barely a whisper, fear flooding through her as he tightened his grip a little, sending a small jolt of pain through her abdomen.

"Oh, I don't think so, 273. Because, you see, this is exactly what I've been waiting for. You... here..." he paused, and then gave her a smile, "And _this_."

He moved his hand down, quickly, too quickly for her to react, and plunged the knife into her stomach.

* * *

Jaina sat up with a start, dragging in a huge breath of air, one hand clasping her throat, the other her stomach, still feeling the metal, still feeling the pain, the blade inside of her.

"Lily?" she called out, urgently, automatically, fighting with her breathing, "_Lily_?"

Liliana came through the door almost immediately, kneeling down swiftly in front of her, "It's okay, I'm here, it's okay."

"Lily -"

"You were dreaming." She cut over her, firmly, "You were dreaming. You're in Bloodstone Manor. Lucien is dead. The Spire is deactivated. Rose is at peace."

"The Commandant?"

"Dead." She said again, putting her hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes, "He's dead. You slit his throat. He bled to death. He died in front of you."

Sparrow looked the girl over, warily, calming but not there yet, "And you?"

The girl softened slightly. She put a hand on her cheek, "I'm fine, Mama. I'm fine. I'm okay. Nothing is going to happen to me. Okay?" she reached down, taking something off the floor, "Here. Drink this."

She took the glass, gratefully, and drunk down whatever was in it. She paused, giving herself a moment, and then let out a low, weary sigh, "God. Avo, I'm sorry, hon."

"It's okay. It's fine. I promise."

"It's not fine. It's anything _but_ fine." She shook her head, disgustedly, "Look at this. Goddamnit, you'd think _I_ was _your_ daughter."

"Mama," she soothed, her voice low, "Don't worry about it. Please. It's fine. You're okay. _I'm_ okay. Everything's fine."

"Like fuck." She said, relishing the anger - anything was better than the fear, "This is goddamned insane. Every bloody night."

Liliana looked at her for a moment. Then she shook her head, "If I had been through what you have... I think I'd be having nightmares too. It's understandable."

She gave a small, choked laugh, "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so. Don't mean I have to like it, though."

"No. No, it doesn't." She paused, looking at her for a moment, "Mama, I -"

"Lily?"

She didn't even look, "In a minute."

"_Lily_?"

She shot an irritated glance over her shoulder, "In a _minute_."

Gavel appeared in the open door, shirtless, wearing only a pair of long cotton trousers that pooled at his feet, "What you doing in here?"

Lily raised an eyebrow. Jaina frowned, then shook her head. It was dark in the room, he must not be able to see her. Her daughter glanced at her, and Jaina put a finger to her lips, shaking her head, meaningfully. She hesitated, and then nodded, "Nothing. Just... wandering."

"Wandering? C'mon, honey. Come back to bed."

She sighed, wearily. Then she glanced back at her mother. Jaina gave a small, wry smile, and then nodded at the man behind her, mouthing the word 'go'. Lily hesitated a moment longer, and then shook her head.

She stood up, a small smirk sliding onto her beautiful face, turning to face the man at the door, "Well, aren't _you_ an energetic one... We'll have to do something about that..."

The man laughed, and took her by the arm, leading her away from the room, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

Jaina waited until she'd heard them patter up the stairs, and then snapped her fingers, using a tiny amount of Will to conjure a small flame. She reached out and lit the small candle on her bedside table, creating enough light to only just be able to see what she was doing.

She paused, and then relaxed her hand, pushing her back against the headboard. The memory of the Commandant close behind her came back and she flinched despite herself. She sighed, wearily. The damned nightmares. Almost every night. The Commandant, the Spire, Lucien, Rose, the banshees. Michael. Couldn't she have one night? Just one night, that's all. One night without seeing the horrors of her past, all she had been through, all that haunted her, all she had somehow survived.

No. Her mind would not allow her rest. Her mind _never_ allowed her rest. If it wasn't these damned dreams it was flashbacks, at any time in the day or night, she could never foresee them coming, she'd just be having a completely normal conversation and - _wham_! - there came the memories, and the shivers, the shakes, and she'd have to get the hell out of the open to a small, secluded spot where she could wait it out, wait for the horrors to fade, the feel of the Spire Guards' whips on her back, that one single gunshot, that day on Heroes' Hill.

Jaina paused for a moment, still sat up. Her hands were on the bed on either side of her, and, quite subconsciously, her fingers had slipped under the pillow, and were stroking her pistol. She took it out, looking at it for a moment. Then she shook her head and clicked out the cylinder, deftly. Three bullets, ready. She put the cylinder back in place. She cocked it with a flick of her wrist. She paused for a moment. Then she put the barrel to her temple and pulled the trigger.


	5. Letting Go

Letting Go

"Morning."

Lily glanced up as she walked into the kitchen, but continued chopping up fruit, "Good morning. Tried it again, have we?" Her tone was perfectly casual, as if they were discussing playing cards rather than attempting suicide.

Her mother sat down at the table, exhaustedly, "How could you tell."

"Well, the racket of that glorified pop-rocket you've got was a big give-away. And also the blood on your cheek. Any joy this time?"

Sparrow wiped the blood away, consciously, "If there _were_ we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"

"Hmm. I suppose not. Did you have to do that while Gavel was here, by the way? I think you put the fear of God into him."

"Oh, sorry. Where is he?"

She shrugged, casually, "No idea. Legged it." She gave a light laugh, remembering the moment with a strange sort of fondness, "Didn't even stop to put on his clothes."

"_God_." Jaina said, vehemently, "Sorry about that, hon."

"Oh, don't apologise. He had a very nice jacket. Catch a pretty penny in the markets, I'll expect."

Jaina rolled her eyes, "Classy..."

"Pirate." She reminded, smiling, "Did you take a potion?"

"Yeah. When I woke up."

"And you are still bleeding. Maybe you're making progress?"

"Maybe I am."

She continued making breakfast, not looking up, "You know, one of these days you will tempt fate so much that you will succeed. You do know that, don't you."

"Yes. But until then I'll be waiting with baited breath."

She turned from the fruit, finished, and began whipping up some yoghurt, pouring in the contents of a red vial as she did so, "You realise, of course, that you told Reaver we would vacate from the house today?"

She could feel her mother's warning gaze on her back, "Yes."

"Are you packed?"

"Yes."

"Hm."

"You?"

She shook her head, "I'm a pirate, I'm always packed." She poured the yoghurt over the fruit, meticulously, and then placed the bowl in front of her, "Honey on top, just how you like it."

"Thanks."

"Welcome."

She sat down opposite her, and managed to eat in silence for a bit. Then she found she had to speak again: "We could move into Fairfax Castle, I suppose."

"I don't want to." Jaina replied, her voice sharp just like it always was whenever the subject of Fairfax was raised, "I can't. I can't live there, Lily."

"Then why did you buy it?"

She paused, "I don't know. I wanted to see it, one last time."

"But you still own it." she said, pointedly, "Why not sell it?"

She didn't reply. Lily took a few more spoonfuls of fruit, and then tried again: "How about Garth's place in Brightwood? The tower? It'd be good for your Will."

She nodded, thoughtfully, "Nice place. But... completely landlocked. You wouldn't be able to stay on your ship for long. The nearest dock is Bowerstone."

"Or the Bandit Coast," she replied, nodding, "Yes, I know. I've thought about this before."

She raised a sceptical eyebrow, "You have?"

She shrugged, "I'm a pirate, I spend days at a time on a ship, it's what I do. What about Bowerstone." Jaina made a face, and she shook her head, "Well, it's either that or Oakfield!"

She shook her head, distastefully, "A place where Reaver himself would be uncomfortable with the attention, or a place where the biggest action is a nearby _beetle_ attack... well, which to choose..."

"I wish you would let me take you out on The Seraphim. There's this exquisite little island -"

"No. I can't leave Albion."

Lily gave a low sigh. She finished her fruit, leaving the spoon in the bowl and putting both in the sink. She turned, watching her mother's back. She was still eating, silently, casually, calmly. But she had tensed. She was waiting. She was waiting for the lecture.

Liliana didn't like giving lectures. She wasn't very good at them. She was far too... _indolent_ for them. Especially ones with her mother, the Queen of Confrontation. She must have got her blasé side from her father. Either that or her mother had changed a lot more than she thought.

Right. Now. Where to start... How to begin this diplomatically... So difficult to decide with this particular woman, no idea what she might suddenly take offence to, not very easy considering her sudden, unpredictable emotion swings, the way she shifted so deftly from calm to furious, it was _very_ difficult to bring this topic up with tact, oh, to hell with it: "You can't stay here forever, you know."

"I believe _Avo_ will decide that, actually." She replied, acerbically.

"You will have to leave Albion eventually."

"I know. And I will. But not until -"

"Not until you hear from her." She completed, shaking her head, wearily, "Mama, it's been twenty _years_. She's _happy_, or you'd have heard from her."

"I know."

"She said it was time to say goodbye."

"I know."

"She said she needed some time to think."

"Yeah. I know." She paused for a moment, "Though, to be fair, she has had twenty years."

"Mama." She said, firmly, "She's not coming back."

There was a long silence. "We can't know either way."

"_Twenty years_, Mama. I think we can."

She paused, thinking, and then shook her head, "Okay. Then discount her. Put her out of the picture. What about Albion."

Lily shook her head, "What _about_ Albion? They survived _before_ you became a Hero. They'll survive when you leave."

"But what if -"

"Lucien is dead." She interrupted, firmly, "The Spire is destroyed, inactive. You yourself killed the head of the assassins' guild, _they've_ been put back a few decades. The Temple of Shadows had been disbanded - again, after you killed the leader. The economy is at its highest and crime is at an all-time low. Since you told the guards the secret to killing balverines _they're_ not much of a threat..." she looked at her for a second, ticking off the reasons on her fingers. Then she shook her head, "What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid someone will need me and I won't be there."

She gave a small grim smile, "You're so egotistical. What makes you think they'll need _you_?" the two women looked at each other for a moment, and then Lily shook her head again, "They're fine, Mama. They're _fine_. If you wish, we could ask for any news. I'm sure they'll send you the update anyway, if anything _should_ happen." She rolled her eyes, addressing her words to the ceiling: "Some things never change..."

"Something could happen."

"Yes. It could." She looked at her for a second, "But are you going to be waiting for that for the rest of your life? Because I've gotta tell you, Mama, considering Avo's current take on you, that could be quite some time."

Jaina nodded, slowly, as if considering it. Then she looked up, catching her eyes, "You know... _you_ could always leave. You could always go, take The Seraphim, go off to some... far off island, Arcazia, Yelrub, Sinta... wherever you want."

Lily gave a small smile, laughing at her own private joke, "Oh, I don't think so. I actually don't think you could tie your _shoes_ without me, and you _definitely_ couldn't take care of yourself when you wander back home with a crossbow bolt embedded in your shoulder."

She shook her head, "Thank you for the concern, but I think I'll be fine."

"No. Maybe one time you would, but not now, and you know it." she leant over and took her mother's empty bowl, turning to wash it in the sink, "Especially with your little suicidal thing, I mean, hell, Mama, why d'you think your fruit tasted bitter?"

Realisation on what she had done dawned on her, followed by slight anger: "If I had wanted to take another health potion, Liliana, I would have _taken_ one."

"And if I had wanted you to get blood over that _very_ expensive oak chair then I would have trusted you to do so." She countered, easily, taking a handkerchief from her pocket and deftly wiping off the remaining trickle of blood on her cheek, "I know you far too well, Mama."

Jaina hesitated, and then sighed, "Hell. Maybe you do. I just... Albion is all I've ever known, Liliana. A lot of memories are here."

"Yes, _most_ of them _bad_!" She said, pointedly. She hesitated, and then shook her head, moving over to her and placing a hand on her arm, "Mama. Let them go."

The Hero of Bowerstone stayed quiet for a long long time. Then she shook her head, "Fine. Yes. Okay, Lily. Alright."

Lily smiled, gently, and then turned her back to finish clearing away, "Thank you. You'll thank me eventually, too."

She heaved a sigh, "Oh, we'll see about that. How long will it take you to get The Seraphim ready to sail?"

"Hmm? Oh, she's ready." She smiled slightly at her frown, "I already sent the go-ahead first thing this morning."

Jaina gave a small, weak smile, "Of course you did. Am I that predictable?"

"Only to me, Mama. Only to me."

* * *

A second coach had stopped outside the giant house in as many days. This one wasn't as grand, as... _ostentatious_ as the first. The two women moved bags and cases into the big coach. One of them - the younger - stopped for a moment to talk with the driver, her light laugh echoing around the courtyard. She ran a hand slowly down his arm and gave a charming smile before retreating back into the house to continue work.

The figure watched, and waited. For so long now all it had felt was cold calculation, but now this emotion was joined by another - unease. The two were leaving. The two it had spent so long watching. They were leaving. _Where_.

Everything had been packed up and placed inside the coach. The girl stroked a horse's neck, chatting with the driver again. The early air had a chill; sea fog swirled across the floor. The driver seemed to offer the girl his jacket, but she just laughed in response. Someone called her name from inside the house, and she turned, calling back.

Then _she_ came out. The elder, the mother, the _Hero_. Eyes fixed onto her. Her pulse thrummed gently in her neck and chest, an almost soothing beat, gentle, steady. Intoxicating. She adjusted her black highwayman's jacket, doing up the top few buttons so it would not be blown aside by the cold breeze. She brushed her platinum hair out of her face and then joined her daughter at her side, raising an eyebrow, talking to her in a low voice before nodding at the coach. The girl laughed again, and then entered, gracefully. The woman turned to adjust her jacket again. And then she looked up.

Their eyes locked. The figure stiffened, looking at her. Little Sparrow frowned. Her eyes moved, looking to either side. Her hand seemed to brush reflexively across her holster, the legendary weapon inside it. Her eyes kept scanning the empty courtyard, cautiously.

The girl called her mother's name. Sparrow stayed still for a moment. Then she shook her head, reluctantly, and turned, back to the carriage. She hesitated for one last second, and then climbed artfully inside. The driver gave the command to the horses, and they started pulling the coach away.

The hooded figure watched the carriage trundle down the cobbled road until it was out of sight, and then disappeared.


	6. Departure

**Departure**

When they reached the quay, Liliana practically skipped onto her docked ship. She was immediately in her element; she pranced up to her crew, chatting away with the first she met, a big, burly-looking man, slapping him playfully on the arm and laughing when he leaned over and whispered something in her ear.

Jaina followed on more slowly. She looked at the ship before she got onto it, and, even though she had little to no knowledge of anything nautically minded, she had to admit that it was beautiful. The wood was light, like Cherry wood, and was varnished to a shine. On the front of the ship was an exquisitely designed figurehead, not of a simple woman or a mermaid or anything like she had ever seen before - it was an angel, female, dressed in flowing white robes, with huge, golden wings. The thing had three towering masts, each covered with web-like lines and huge off-white sails. Everything looked very complicated to her, like the cutting of one wire would result in a complete breakdown, and she silently vowed not to touch anything unless specifically told to.

She placed her foot on the gangplank, and was moderately surprised when someone grabbed her arms from behind and pulled her back. Being a Hero, and the touch on her shoulders being quite gentle, she was not intimidated, but she was indignant. She glanced at the offending hands, and then followed them up to the person who owned them. It was a man, relatively tall, wearing a once-white cotton top and a pair of blue trousers. A pirate, it seemed, one of the crew, most probably.

Jaina paused for a moment, looking at him, raising an eyebrow, and then glanced down at his hands, pointedly.

He retreated, letting go, but didn't move out of her way, "Yer the Cap'n's mother?" he had a low, gravelly voice, probably from cigarettes and drink.

"Yes. Jaina."

"Crook. Nice to meet yeh. Get on with yer right foot."

She frowned, "Sorry?"

He nodded at the gangway, "Yer _right_ foot. Not yer left."

"Why?"

He shrugged, dismissively, but cast a somewhat wary glance at the sky, as if searching for clouds. He leant down to her ear for a moment, "Bad luck. 'Scuse me."

Crook left, just as quickly as he had appeared, walking onto the ship, starting with his right foot. Jaina stood still for a moment, still frowning slightly. More people were moving onto the ship, taking on their bags, and she cocked her head slightly, watching their feet, carefully. They all stepped on with their right feet. Some didn't even seem to be doing it _consciously_ - it was ingrained. Another sailor stopped at her side and put a hand on the bag on her back, probably meaning to carry it - because, of course, _women_ couldn't carry a bag _themselves_ - but she sent him packing with a firm look and a slow increase of grip on the bag's strap. She hesitated for a moment, and then shook her head, walking up the gangway. Starting with her right foot.

The whole deck was covered in people moving quickly, some barking orders she couldn't even _hope_ to understand, and others seemingly following them out. It seemed the entire crew was male, and _tall_, and somewhat... _burly_, and very, _very_ busy. Jaina backed away, a little uneasy despite herself, retreating back to the ship's rail, placing her back to it so she could see if she was in anyone's way.

"Care for a drink?"

* * *

Jaina turned, glancing at her daughter. She was standing easily on the gently swaying boat, even in those strange, heeled boots she was wearing, holding two crystal glasses, smiling slightly. She moved closer, handing her a glass, "Here."

"What is it?"

"Rum. Would you expect anything else?"

"Rum and...?"

"Juice. Apples, strawberries... a mix. It's nice, I promise."

She hesitated, and then took a tenuous sip. Then she nodded, "Y'know, that's not half bad."

Lily gave a small, wry smile, "It's called a Furious Broad. I thought it'd be appropriate."

"You're not too old for a clip round the ear, you know."

She laughed, shaking her head, and Jaina surveyed the sailor behind her, the same one Lily had chatted to when she had come onboard, who was leaning back on the ship's rail, watching them, carefully. She leant down, lowering her voice: "Though I'm pretty sure if I did I'd be getting an earful from Mr Protective over there. What's _his_ deal?"

"Hmm?" she glanced over her shoulder, and then smiled, "Oh, _Henson_? He's the boatswain. Don't worry about him. He's always been a bit... _off_." She turned slightly and gave the sailor a cheerful wave. Henson paused, and then gave a small twist of a smile and nodded.

Lily smiled again and turned back, "We're ready to leave dock. If you are."

Jaina sighed, shaking her head, turning around so she could look back on Bloodstone. It was very early morning, so The Leper's Arms was now slowly emptying, wasted men staggering back to their homes, or, more likely, to the nearest dark alleyway. The pavement was still smeared with blood and... _other_ bodily fluids, the rain last night having only lasted a few hours. Near to The Seraphim a lone prostitute assaulted the few sailors still remaining on the quay, who didn't exactly look like they were fighting her off with pitchforks.

But, beyond that... just above the roofs of the houses... the peak of Bloodstone Mansion was just about visible.

Jaina turned her back, facing her daughter, firmly, "Yes. Let's go."

Lily smiled, softly, and then turned, putting a hand in the air, motioning to another burly sailor, "Let's move out! Crook, let Brent know we're ready to sail. You, Langston, what you standing there for?! The tide won't wait, _move_ it!"

Jaina smiled slightly at her daughter's sudden energy, the way she clicked so easily into the role of 'Captain'. She let her leave, watching with a mix of interest and confusion at the suddenly busy people on the ship, hauling on ropes and tying them into place, adjusting the many wires on the sails and somehow pulling them tight.

The floor jolted a little as the anchor was raised, and, slowly, they started moving away from the quay. Liliana, seemingly satisfied with the way things were going, came back to her side. "Here we go. Any regrets?"

"Plenty. But... nothing dire." She hesitated, and then turned slightly, going to look back at Bloodstone one last time.

Lily stopped her, quickly, a hand on her shoulder, "_No_." Jaina glanced at her, surprised, and the younger girl shook her head, slowly, "Don't look back. Never look back once the ship has left port."

"Why?"

She shrugged, nonchalantly, but Jaina thought she saw the same sort of wariness in her eyes as she had with Crook, "It's... supposed to bring bad luck."

"You really believe that?" she asked, shrewdly.

The girl shook her head, "No, not really. But most of my crew do. I have to try to keep them happy or there'll be a mutiny on our hands."

"But, wait, didn't I hear something about having a _woman_ onboard a ship being bad luck?"

"Yes, you probably did."

"And... you're the Captain."

"Yep. That's why I pay attention to the smaller discrepancies. Stops them from seeing the great big one right in front of their faces."

Jaina gave a wry smile, "Full of little gems of wisdom, aren't you?"

She laughed, lightly, "Indeed I am. Come on. I'll show you to your cabin. This way."

* * *

Jaina sat silently on her bed. She stayed still, feeling the gentle sway of the ship. It had been a few hours since the ship had left port, and now she had to concentrate to notice it. Getting up and walking to the other side of the room had at first been challenging, but now she was so used to it she barley noticed.

She looked around her. Everything was in shades of red and gold, and black, blending nicely with the cherry wood walls. Lily's touch, probably. She could hear seabirds outside crowing, waves lapping against the boat, the crew talking and laughing on the deck above in their husky, gravelly voices. Everything smelled of sea salt, and, not oddly for pirates, gunpowder.

Everything was the sea. Jaina closed her eyes for a moment, staying sat on the bed. No. She was still on a boat. She was still at sea.

There was a knock on her door, and she opened her eyes, "Yes?"

The door slid open a little, and the sailor that had stopped her from crossing onto the gangway with her left foot poked in his head, "Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am."

"It's Jaina," she said, not unkindly, "And it was... _Crook_, wasn't it?"

"Tha's right, miss."

"_Jaina_. What's wrong?"

"Nothin'. I was jus'... jus' seein'... Y'know, 'cuz yer new and all..."

Jaina gave a small smile, "Just seeing if I was alright?"

"Yeah. S'pose."

She smiled again. She looked him over for a moment, paying attention to his features. He was heavily tanned with a sailor's body, fit, muscular, and could have been anything from thirty to forty, with a head of thick, light brown hair speckled with grey. His eyes were dark green, and had light wrinkles around them.

For some reason this immediately drew her to him, and she got to her feet, moving towards him, "You're so sweet."

Crook raised an eyebrow, and shook his head, hastily, "I was jus' -"

"Ah, I'm sorry, pirates probably don't appreciate being called sweet, do they? Okay, alright then, it's... good of you to pop by. Is that better?"

He gave a small, hesitant smile, "By far, miss..." he hesitated, "_Jaina_."

"Good. Good." She moved closer towards him, slowly, leaning against the wall, casually, "Well, _Crook_. Do you have _another_ name?"

"Yes, ma'am, but, mos'ly, people jus' call me Crook."

"And why is that?"

He shrugged, nonchalantly, "I'm good with me hands."

Her smile grew at his choice of words, "_Are_ you. Well. That's good to know."

He frowned, "Why?"

She shook her head, still smiling, "No reason."

"You won't get him that way."

* * *

Lily placed a hand on Crook's shoulder, smiling at him as he moved respectfully out of her way. Then she turned her smile onto her mother, "Crook needs things... a little spelled out. Isn't that right, Crook."

"Yep, Cap'n."

"Believe me when I say he's got no idea what you want."

"He will soon." Jaina murmured, thoughtfully. Then she shook her head, "But not just yet." She shot her daughter a smile, "What you after?"

"Well, I was going to give you a tour, but..." she glanced at Crook and then looked back, raising an eyebrow, "If you're busy I could always come back in an hour or two...?"

"I think now will be fine, thank you for the consideration." She eyed the pirate up one more time before shaking her head and moving past him, unable to resist trailing a hand along his chest as she did.

* * *

"So, on a ship, you've got a rank system, yeah?"

"More or less, yes."

"With... Captain at the top... then... quartermaster."

"No, first mate."

"Okay, first mate, _then_ the quartermaster... then the boatswain, right?"

"Yes, that's it."

"Who's your first mate?"

"Mm, man called Jefferson. _Fine_ man, _very_ fine. Marvellous sailor." She nodded at a door without stopping, "Cooper's room. Don't want to go in there. Or there. Or there. I mean, you're free to do so, but the coopers are a bit... y'know."

She made a face and Jaina instantly vowed to never step foot in these rooms for as long as she lived.

"Here are just cabins, most of them, anyway. Ashton, Sampson, Greenfield... Oh, and just in here is -" the door opened before she could even touch it, and she took a sharp step back, eyes widening, "_You_?!"

"Liliana! What a... _pleasant surprise_..."


	7. Uninvited Guests

**Uninvited Guests**

"_Reaver_!" Lily said, her voice almost a yelp from her surprise at finding the pirate on her ship, "What... what are _you_ doing here?"

"I could ask the same question." Reaver asked, lazily, his eyes moving over her and then catching sight of the other women in question, giving a small smirk, "Why, hello, my dear."

Jaina gave him a small, sarcastic smile. She had automatically drawn her weapon at hearing her daughter's shout, and, now she had seen who it was for herself, didn't put it away. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she kept her aim constant. But, despite the almost uncontrollable desire to do so, she didn't fire. No. She'd wait for Liliana, first. This was her territory, after all.

The younger girl was still seemingly indignant, "_I_ am _supposed_ to be here, this is _my_ _**ship**_."

"_Your_ ship?" he repeated, sceptically.

"_Yes_, _my_ ship." Several of the crew had gathered in the corridor, hastened by the panic and shock they must have heard in their Captain's voice, and she turned on them, "Carter! Who let this man onboard? Well? Carter? Johnson? _Well_?"

None of the pirates answered, all looking at each other, uneasily.

Reaver broke the moment, casually, "I don't believe _any_one _let_ me onboard, I came here of my own will." He paused for a moment, looking at the floor, "We're moving. Have we left port?"

"More than two hours ago."

As usual, he took the news rather well: "Ah. _That_ is... _unexpected_... How far have we travelled?"

"We're going thirty-five knots."

"Really? Hmm."

Lily shook her head, and Jaina could see vague anger and indignation mixing with the diminishing shock, "And we're still at least _three days journey _away from port, now, if you please, _what_ are you doing on my ship."

"Or, more accurately, _who_." Jaina added, nodding grimly at the half-open door.

A woman clad in only a thin, white sheet moved towards the door, frowning. Then she saw who was there and her face turned an interesting shade of red, and she quickly retreated back through a door at the other side of the room.

Sparrow watched with narrowed eyes. It wasn't the girl's choice of bedfellow that was getting to her, though she was, of course, undoubtedly insane. It was... the _situation_. The sheet the girl had pulled over her shot a memory through Jaina's head of the time when _she_ had done the same thing - after Reaver had drugged her and tricked her into staying the night in his mansion, in his _bed_. Nothing had happened, and she had left the next morning wrapped in a red sheet with her clothes in hand, her bag slung over her shoulder, and angrier than she could ever remember being.

She glanced at Reaver, and, by the small, knowing smirk he had fixed on her, she gathered he was remembering too.

"Ah." Lily stated, the slightest tint of disdain colouring her voice, "_Marianne_. Completely honest, I'm not all that surprised, she always was a bit of a - _Simmons_?!"

Jaina glanced at her, "A bit of a _what_?"

Lily ignored her, pointing into the bedroom, "That's _Simmons_!"

Reaver raised an eyebrow, lazily, "Oh, is _that_ his name..."

"You didn't. Oh, tell me you didn't."

He shot her a small smirk, "Didn't what, my dear?"

The Captain looked at him for a second, and then shook her head, almost indignantly, "He has a wife and two children, you know!"

"Ah, but not _here_, evidentially." She shook her head, almost disgustedly, and he frowned, curiously, "What do you mean, this is your ship?"

Liliana shook her head again, "I mean I _own_ it. I am The Seraphim's _captain_."

"Well. Hmm. That _is_ unexpected..."

"Why. I believe I told you I was a pirate, did I not?"

"Yes, but I didn't believe you."

"Well. I guess you can _now_." She paused for a moment, straightening herself up a little, calming, "It appears you are along for the ride, Reaver. We can't head back now. Welcome aboard The Seraphim."

He smiled, "Delighted to be here. Where are we headed?"

"That..." she paused, noticing her mother's raised eyebrow. She paused for a moment, and then seemed to realise the implications of Reaver knowing exactly where to find them, "That... will become clear when we arrive." She finished, delicately, shaking her head. Then she glanced to her right. Slight surprise moved over her face as she noticed Jaina still holding her weapon, and she shook her head again, "Put that away."

"Why." She asked, emotionlessly, eyes fixed on Reaver.

Lily hesitated, and then leant closer, "Listen to me. Put your pistol away. You shoot him and there'll be a mutiny. None of these men know what happened, it'd be _murder_, and a _woman's_ murder. Do you want to know what happens to murderers at sea?"

She shook her head, sceptically, "Let them _try_."

"Mama. I know you are quite capable of killing every person on this ship without breaking a sweat. But I'd rather you didn't, if it's all the same to you." She looked around her, at the small group of men gathered at the other end of the corridor, "These men are my crew. Put your pistol away."

Jaina kept her eyes on Reaver. He was watching her, almost _curiously_, smiling a small, knowing smile.

She paused. Then she shook her head, giving a small, frustrated snarl, pushing her pistol away and turning her back on him, "Fine. Fine. There'll be another time."

"I'm sure there will, my dear," Reaver smirked, transferring his gaze onto Lily and raising an amused eyebrow, "Vicious little thing, isn't she?"

"Yep," Lily replied, easily, "That she is."

"Hmm..." he thought for a second, and then shook his head, "You said thirty-five."

"Sorry?"

"You said thirty-five. Thirty-five knots. That's pretty fast for a ship this size."

She nodded, "I know. I channelled my Will into keeping the wind stable."

He raised an eyebrow, "You can use Will?"

"I'm the daughter of the Fourth Hero, Reaver. The Hero of Albion. Of course I can use Will." Then she tilted her head slightly to one side, acquiescing, "Though mine is not as... _substantial_ as hers. I spend most of my time developing Skill, as a marksman."

"Hmm... We are well suited, my dear."

"Oh, I doubt that." She turned from him, looking back at Jaina, "Mama. Come on. Let's go." She took her by the arm when she hesitated, and managed to move her a few steps down the corridor, out of Reaver's sight, "We have three daysjourney until we reach port." She glanced in at Simmons who was still in the bed, raising an eyebrow, and then turned her eyes back onto him, "Perhaps you should return to whatever it was you were doing."

A smirk slowly moved across Reaver's lips, "Perhaps I will. Perhaps you wouldn't mind _joining_ us, _Captain Liliana_."

She gave a small smile and shook her head, "Oh, I apologise, Reaver. I don't share. And try not to kill him afterwards, there's a good man..."

* * *

"I should have shot him when I had the chance."

Lily nodded, calmly, silent through her mother's violent cursing.

"I should have killed him. I should have pulled the trigger and fucking killed him, why didn't you let me."

"None of these men know what happened between you two," she repeated, evenly, "They would have taken it the wrong way. They are my crew, Mama, my family. When I became Captain I vowed to protect them as best as I can. Even against you."

Jaina turned and swore viciously, shaking her head. Lily paused for a moment, and then shook her head, pouring her a glass of rich wine, "Here. Drink this."

She took a sip, and then immediately looked at her, a small twist of a smile moving onto her face, "It's Clairet."

"Yes. But not drugged, I assure you."

She shook her head again and then drank, taking in half a glass in one turn. Lily refilled it to the brim, promptly, and then took her own glass, taking a much smaller sip. She waited for the amount of time considered polite, and then started the conversation again: "His presence here complicates things."

"Damn fucking _straight_ it does."

"But there's nothing we can do about it. Not now."

She made a small sound of disgust. Then she shook her head, "I know. I know."

Lily looked at her for a moment. She sensed her dissatisfaction, her frustration at having the man she so longed to kill so close and yet not being able to do a thing about. She shook her head, "Listen. This is Reaver we're talking about. At some point he will slip up. Someone will say the wrong thing and he'll snap. Then we'll have an excuse. If he tries anything... he's yours."

Jaina shook her head, scathingly, "Why would he try anything, he _wants_ to be here - hell, a three-day journey, in that time he could bed his way through the entire _crew_."

"Well, wouldn't want to miss _that_..." she murmured, thoughtfully.

Her mother shook her head, giving a shot bark-like laugh, "You know, Liliana, out of all the, the... _lotharios_ you've picked to... _share your affections with_, this has gotta be the biggest Don Juan..."

"Was I supposed to understand _any_ of that?"

"He's a slut."

"Oh, that makes more sense, thank you for that."

"Just... if you _have_ to... make sure..." she raised an eyebrow, "Right?"

"What, do you think me _insane_? I have absolutely _no_ intention of misplacing _that_ particular item."

"Good. Though, of course, I'd rather you didn't need it at _all_..."

Lily sighed. She finished her glass, and filled it again, topping up hers while she was at it, walking back towards the door, "Come on. Come meet the crew. Get your mind off of Reaver, for now."

"If that's even possible."

Her daughter shot her an amused glance, "You're starting to sound like _me_."

"Lily?"

"Yes, Mama?"

"Shut up."

* * *

Reaver pushed the over-zealous girl back onto the bed for what must have been the hundredth time. He supposed her defiance wasn't that unusual. She was a _pirate_, after all. He ensured her cooperation this time by taking his hands from their positions on the pillow either side of her head and moving them onto her shoulders, putting all his weight down on her.

The young wench recoiled slightly as if his positioning had caused her some pain, but continued their kiss with an added vigour. _Definitely_ a pirate... The girl bit at his lip and he let out a low growl, punishing her with a bite of his own. _Feisty_ little pirate... and most definitely better second time around.

The girl began pulling at his shirt, and Reaver stopped the motion by deftly sliding his hands down her arms until they pinned her just above the elbows. This position seemed to hurt her even more, but, again, she was making no complaints. He shifted again, and she gave a breathless little gasp as he pulled her naked body up to his fully clothed chest so he could manoeuvre her hands behind her back, keeping them trapped there.

He licked across her jaw, and, slowly, slid one hand down her body. Her breath hitched and the sound made something tighten in his chest.

She was starting to moan, calling out his name, breathlessly, and purring in some language he didn't know, and didn't care about. Her whole body shuddered as his hand neared somewhere obviously quite sensitive, the shiver moving through his.

"Well, _you're_ an easy one to please, _aren't_ you." He murmured, giving a small smile.

She flushed slightly, and responded with a fierce kiss. Her kiss felt brutal, vicious, and, oddly, familiar. A jolt went through his body as he realised why, and his smirk grew. She reminded him of his little Jaina. That time in his manor when she'd thrown herself at him. _Literally_. He supposed this girl was quite like her, in some ways.

Reaver paused for a moment, and, for the first time, looked down at his choice, almost curiously. Though dearest Liliana had mentioned her name when they had come to visit, and the girl herself had introduced herself a few times, he had once again overlooked her name. He knew it began with M, Marielle, or Marianna, or some such. He supposed it didn't really matter - it never had before.

Her bright auburn hair was spread across the pillow, still mussed slightly from the rodeo before, and, though the colour was different from his little Sparrow's, the length was the same. She had forest green eyes that had darkened with passion, and her skin was pale. Like hers.

But, no. Reaver shook the ridiculous thought from his mind. This girl was the only woman on the ship, save little Lily and her frigid little mother. Any similarities were either coincidences or parts of his imagination.

He looked back at the pirate. She was quite a pretty little thing. All breasts and hips in that desirable way, but with a raw strength to her that could only come from a few seasoned years at sea. His hand had stopped, right on the brink of taking everything from her all over again, and she was shifting almost reflexively, her body pleading with him to continue. Reaver smirked at the keening, purring plaything below him, and slipped his hand across her, giving her body the smallest taste of what it wanted. He would make her beg before he took her. All too easily.


	8. Not Like This

**Not Like This**

Jaina sat back in her chair, smiling pleasantly and laughing at something Finch had said. Lily sat down the table, and she too was smiling, but not for the same reason. She was watching the reactions that her men where having to her mother.

They all knew she was the Hero of Albion. And, like the whole population of Albion, they all had a certain respect and awe for her. For her choice in the Spire, for her pure strength and power, for her... _Heroic deeds_. However, unlike the whole population of Albion, they didn't show this as fear. They were like the inhabitants of Bloodstone, still relentlessly trying her out, testing her, taunting her, fully aware of the fact that she could kill them in a heartbeat, but seemingly having no fear of it. They interacted with her the same way as _she_ did - casual, joking, _mocking_, even.

And she responded with smiles and laughs and, one by one, Lily could feel her men becoming enraptured with her.

It wasn't a completely sexual desire, not necessarily. It was... _respect_. Camaraderie. The want to help her when she needed it and then cover the action up with a teasing joke afterwards. Lily knew right away that her men would do pretty much anything for her.

"- an' this thing was _huge_, I swear, _huge_!"

"Nah, no way!"

"No, I'm tellin' ya, like thirteen feet!"

"Yeah yeah?"

"Yeah! An' we're like, '_what the hell is that thing_?!' an' then it's running towards us, an', oh god, we are _gone_, we are _out_ of there!"

"_Thirteen feet_?"

"An' we're leggin' it back to our ship, all the way down the bay, and, course, it had a hole in it the size o' Bowerstone so we hadda plug it with whateva we had, which weren't much, I tell ya -"

"And it was still _following_ you?"

"Yeah, an' it could _swim_."

"It could _swim_?!"

"Yeah! It followed us near half way home, we hadda dock at some beach somewhere, _no_ idea where we were, and we ran up the ground, tore another hole through the deck! Damn nearly _killed_ us!"

Jaina burst into laughter, shaking her head, "You're _hopeless_! Why didn't you have a lifeship? You're lucky you didn't drow-"

* * *

Lily saw what was going to happen less than a second before it did. Finch snapped a hand out, securing a firm hold over her mouth, stopping the word in its place. Jaina, understandably, yanked back, shock and surprise moving over her face, no room for indignation yet.

Lily got to her feet, "That's enough."

Finch slowly, hesitantly, released her. Jaina glanced at her, her surprise fading into vague coolness, "Said something I shouldn't have?"

She noticed the way the men next to her mother were moving closer, warily, ready to once again stop the 'd' word from leaving her lips. Lily, however, just took a delicate sip of her wine, then looked up at her, "Never say that word at sea."

"Bad luck?" she asked, shrewdly.

She gave a twist of a smile, "Exactly." She looked around at her men, who were still watching her, uneasily, "Okay, guys, she's got the point, relax, as you were."

There was a pause before the men settled down as one, Finch returning to his chair.

Jaina shook her head, retaking her seat, probably still slightly unsettled, "You're gunna have to teach me these rules, I don't wanna go summoning a tempest or anything."

She gave a pleasant smile, "Oh, I doubt you'd do anything _that_ extreme. But it pays to keep the men happy. And, speaking of which..." she glanced at a clock on the wall, "I am going to retire. Crook, if you could please escort Miss Jaina back to her quarters? Thank you."

Her mother shot her a look, clearly telling her she knew what she was up to. Lily replied only with a small smile, "I'll see you in the morning, Mama. I hope you have a good night's sleep."

She placed only the slightest amount of emphasis on the last word, but she caught it, and narrowed her eyes, "And you. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"One hopes." She finished her wine and placed the glass softly down on the table, "And, Jendring, if I could borrow you for a moment...? Fantastic. Let's go."

* * *

Jaina stood completely silently in the corridor. Everything was silent - even the most hardened sailors had finally gone to sleep. She shouldn't be here. She knew that. She shouldn't be even _considering_ what she was doing right now. But she couldn't stop. She padded silently along the corridor, her hand brushing across the wooden wall. She stopped. Her hand had hit the sixth door.

She just stayed there a moment, wavering, her fingers feeling out the ingrain of the wood, unconsciously. Then she lowered her hand, and clicked the safety off her pistol.

The door opened without a creak. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark. She could see the room perfectly. On the side of the bed nearest to her was the pirate, _Marianne_, her bright hair visible even in the darkness. She was sleeping soundly. And on the other side...

Jaina's heart pounded. She took a few steps into the room, silently. Her hands automatically slid onto the optimum grip on her pistol. She raised it, taking aim. She hesitated. The pistol was loud. A 'glorified pop-rocket', as Lily had called it. A single shot might not wake the sailors, of course, but it would most definitely wake the whore in his bed.

_That's fine,_ a small part of her mind said, firmly, _You can spare two shots._

She frowned slightly. It was... _distasteful_ to kill her too. And _two_ shots... maybe the sailors wouldn't be able to ignore that. They were all seasoned pirates, after all. They knew the sound of gunfire when they heard it.

_One or two may hear it. Maybe even three. You can take out three without even breaking a sweat._

But, for some reason, the thought made her uneasy. Lily had trusted her. She had trusted her at her word. That she would not harm a member of this crew.

_They are __**pirates**__!_ Her mind snarled,_ Just pirates, Sparrow._

No. They weren't just pirates. They were Lily's men. Lily's crew.

_Fine. Then don't shoot him. Go over there and slice through his throat. Make it quick. Get the girl too if she wakes up. Make it look like he killed her, then himself. You can do that._

She moved closer, one hand on the gun that was still pointed towards him, the other playing with a dagger on her belt.

_**Do**__ it! It'll be __**easy**__! Quick, simple, quiet! Just __**kill**__ him!_

But she didn't move. Reaver lay silently on his side of the bed, far away from his whore, having nothing to do with her now he had got what he wanted. Anger pumped through her. But she still didn't move.

Jaina suppressed a frustrated growl. Her ridiculous morals! Her foolish sense of right and wrong! She wanted to kill him, she knew that. He _had to die_. She knew that.

But... not like this.

"Not like this." She said, softly. She looked at him for a second, his sleeping form. He didn't deserve to die with honour, the honourable death he denied so many. But... she would not kill a sleeping opponent. She just... _couldn't_.

"Not like this." She repeated, her voice a low whisper, "But, one day, Reaver. Mark my words."

She put her pistol back in its holster, deftly. She turned, heading back to the door. She stopped for a second, hand on the handle. Then she shook her head, and left without a sound.

* * *

Reaver opened his eyes when he heard the door slide shut, and gave a small, knowing smirk.

_Predictable, my dear Sparrow. So predictable._


	9. Don Juan

**Don Juan**

There was only the slightest noise, the smallest creak of the floorboards, but the girl snapped awake, drawing a pistol and aiming it deftly at the door, "Stay where you are."

He complied, raising an eyebrow, amused, admiring her almost instantaneous defence. He didn't speak.

It was dark in the room. She was wearing some kind of nightgown - incredibly short, like everything else she wore - but the unfortunate positioning of her legs, the way she curled one underneath her, denied him vision to anything but the curve of her thigh. He moved further into the room, and she cocked the pistol, deftly, "I said stay where you are."

He stopped, and she frowned into the darkness, "Jefferson? What are you doing here?"

He smirked again, "Not quite, my dear."

Her eyes widened slightly, and she threw out a hand. A small spark of fire jetted from her fingers, but, instead of hitting him, it struck a candle on the side of the door beside him, instantly lighting it.

Lily got to her feet as he was thrown into light, "Reaver."

He smiled, "Liliana." His eyes roamed over her, feasting on the beautiful specimen in front of him. The nightgown she had on was a pale blue, thin, hanging invitingly from her curves. The bottom was lined with lace, and brushed the skin a few hands' widths above her knees. Her hair was down from its usual dreadlocks and hung in loose blonde curls around her face.

His eyes moved onto the pistol still in her hand, and then he glanced down at the candle beside him, curiously, "Nice aim."

"Thank you." She holstered the Red Dragon in the tight strap on her thigh, fluidly, keeping her eyes on him, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well." He moved a few steps further into the room, casually, "I got a late night call from your mother. I thought I'd return the favour but her door appears to be locked. So I settled on the next best thing."

Lily raised her eyebrows a bit, probably at being referred to as 'the next best thing', but then shook her head, "She came into your room. What did she say."

"Nothing. I believe she thought me to be asleep. At least from the _far_ too casual way she held her _pistol_, anyway."

The girl paused, and then nodded, slowly, "But you are, evidentially, still alive. What did she do."

"Nothing. I believe she went into that room with every intention of shooting me, but didn't."

"Why."

He shrugged, "She said... 'not like this'."

Lily shook her head, sceptically, and cursed under her breath, "Damn."

"You are upset at this?"

"No. I... _think_ I'm upset that she chose not to kill you because she thought you were sleeping. I'd rather she didn't kill you because I asked her _not_ to, not because of some ridiculous moral qualms."

Reaver gave a small smirk, "Oh, my dear, you're so heartless." _And __**bra**__less, too_. He observed, casually, tilting his head slightly to look her over again. He made no excuses at what he was doing, and, to her part, she remained completely unaffected. His smile slowly grew, "Quite the pirate, aren't you? Who's that?"

She glanced over her shoulder, following his gaze to the man in the bed, and then turned back, "Jendring. One of my crew." She glanced back at him again, and then shook her head, "Quite the sleeper."

"Well, that's alright, then."

He took another step towards her, and she observed the move with vague interest, "And why is that?"

He reached her, putting a soft hand on her waist. He leant closer to her, to her ear, "Because then you won't have to _share_." He said, his voice a low purr.

She nodded, slowly, acknowledging the reference to her previous words, "I suppose you are correct in that, at least."

"Mm." He paused for a moment, looking at her, a small smile tugging at his lips, "My dear, I find there is so much I do not know about you. Answer me this. Your mother's accent derives from the gypsies she grew up with, along with a hint of something else, something from her little witch friend, most probably. Where is _yours_ from."

"My tutor. Mama hired someone from Fairfax Gardens to tutor me. He stayed in the Mansion for a few years."

"How many?"

"Thirteen."

"That was quick, already knew what I was going to ask?"

"Yes, I worked it out as soon as you asked about my accent. He moved in when I was three, left when I was sixteen."

"Quite young. Why did he leave."

She looked at him for a moment, "It wasn't voluntary. Let's just say he took on a few of Bloodstone's inhabitants' less... _tasteful_ traits. He got ideas above his station."

"And dear little Sparrow dealt with him accordingly, of course."

She raised an eyebrow, smiling, almost amused, "What makes you think _Sparrow_ dealt with him?"

He paused for a moment, and then echoed her smile, "Of course. Half pirate, half Hero."

"I was a Hero first. But I've been a pirate for longer. Like you, perhaps? Mama never did tell me the particulars of your... _conversion_. Even after reading your diary."

Inside, Reaver froze. As usual, he didn't let a shred of his concerns appear on his face, "Is that so? Oh, I assure you, my dear, it is a most dull story." He let his hand slide down her hip, brushing across the lace, "And there's something else I'd... _much_ rather discuss."

Lily raised an eyebrow at him, making a good attempt at looking sceptical, "What makes you think that's what _I_ want?"

"I guess our first meeting gave me a _slight_ clue. Unless you _always_ greet strangers that way." He leaned forwards, kissing the skin underneath her ear, her hair brushing against his cheek, "Mm, maybe I should try putting a pistol to your heart again..."

"Maybe I should try putting one to _yours_. After all, you've committed more atrocities against my family than I can care to name. Maybe I _should_ kill you."

"You really think you're faster than me?" his hand moved across to her arm and down, brushing around her wrist. He tried to figure out whether, when she'd put her pistol away, she'd left the safety off. A thrill went through him when he realised he couldn't tell.

"I think I'd have a fair shot."

"Mmm... maybe we should try it out."

"Maybe we should."

His grip snapped shut on her wrist and in one swift movement he threw her back on the bed. He had one knee over her when she snapped out her hand, an invisible force hitting him in the stomach and throwing him off and onto his back on the mattress. Immediately she clambered over him, pinning him down, hands on his arms.

He looked up at her and smiled, slowly, "You used Will. That's cheating."

She smiled back, "Pirate." She leaned forwards, and, tantalising slowly, brushed her lips over his. She slid further up his body until she straddled his waist, moving her hands to his hair, pulling his head up slightly so she could have better access to his mouth.

Then, abruptly, she pulled back, "You know, you asked so much of me, I think it's only fair I ask some questions of you."

"I'm not a big fan of small talk." He replied, his voice a low growl.

"Mm, I guessed. Then... help me with this." She let her hands slide out of his hair, "Mama called you a Don Juan."

He smirked, immediately, amused at the comparison, "_Did_ she, now..."

"Yes. What does it mean."

"What, you don't know? Even with your _Fairfax Gardens education_?" she just looked at him, and he shook his head, settling back against the mattress, casually, "Don Juan de Tenorio was supposedly a grand womaniser. An _obsessed_ womaniser. Legend said that after one such... _conquest_... he went on to kill his lover's father. He then went to visit the dead father's tomb, where he invited the man's statue to dinner. The statue accepted, and dragged the debauched man down to hell. A story with quite a moral, it seems."

"Hmm... perhaps Mama is saying this is what you are destined for."

"Mm, maybe she is. Maybe in this story she believes _herself_ to be the _statue_."

"The statue of the person you murdered, ready to drag you down into hell..." she seemed to think about it, and then shook her head, "Quite an apt story."

"Mmm." He slid a hand onto her bent thigh, pushing up, his hand moving over her strong stomach, "But enough of stories."

"Do you consider yourself a Don Juan, Reaver?"

He cursed inside his head, making an effort to curb his temper. He gave a small, forced smile, "I thought I said I wasn't a big fan of small talk."

"And I thought I said I wanted to ask you a few questions." She drew her hands slowly along his front, playfully, "Come on. _Answer_ me. Do you think you're a Don Juan?"

He let out a low, frustrated growl, and an amused smile appeared on her lips. This only served to fuel his irritation. At least the Marielle woman had been controllable.

The pretty little pirate started undoing his shirt. Slowly. Reaver looked into her chocolate-coloured eyes, sparkling with silent laughter, the eyes that looked so like his darling Sparrow's before the Shadow Court intervened, and decided to share a little of his frustrations. He took hold of her wrists and pulled them out to either side, sharply, so her body fell completely against his. He let go and slipped one hand back up to her thigh, easily finding the holster and taking out the pistol, the 'legendary' Red Dragon, throwing it carelessly to the floor. She sat up at this and tried to reach it, but he grabbed hold of her wrist with his spare hand, stopping her. His other slid to her thigh. Then he kept moving up.

Liliana wasn't as sensitive as the other. She looked down at him with a wry smile and shifted slightly as she realised where he was going. He didn't let her continued amusement faze him, instead trying her out a little and pushing deeper.

She shifted again, letting her head roll back on her shoulders, letting out a small, breathless moan. Reaver was just starting to think that he was getting to her when she looked back down at him and laughed, shaking her head. She leaned closer to him, "Oh, Reaver," she breathed, mockingly, in a valiant attempt at a Bloodstone drawl, "_Oh_, Reaver, you're so strong, so powerful, so brave - and so quick on the _draw_, let's hope that talent doesn't continue beyond your Dragonstomper, yes?"

He gave a small growl and his spare hand grabbed her throat, squeezing slightly, "You do realise you will pay for that."

She smiled at him, eyes glittering, "Oh _will_ I."

He growled again and she laughed. She leant forwards then, returning to undoing his shirt. Something clenched in Reaver's chest. He couldn't tell whether it was anger or lust. Whatever game this audacious young thing was playing... it seemed to be working.

Her hand was soft and finished the buttons on his shirt deftly. And continued going.

* * *

Then, suddenly, she froze in her spot. Her hands stayed on his belt, still. Her eyes widened. She looked up, at the door. She stayed perfectly still for a moment.

Fighting back frustration, Reaver raised an eyebrow, lazily, "Something wrong?"

"Shh." Liliana waved a vague hand at him, not moving her gaze. Her eyes stayed fixed on the door. "I thought I heard something."

He paused for a moment, "I didn't hear -"

"Shh. _There_. You hear that?"

There was another pause. "Yes, I believe I did." He replied, casually. He slipped a hand under her nightdress again, pushing up, "Ignore it."

She shook her head, vaguely impatient. She listened again. "It's coming from downstairs." She nodded at the floor to her left, "_That_ way."

Reaver gave a low, weary sigh. He sat up a little, indulging her, "Fine. What's down that way."

She stayed still for a long time. Then she glanced at him, "Mama."

She was off of him in a second, the warmth and weight leaving his body, and was making her way quickly to the door, not stopping to put on any additional clothing. Then she stopped and glanced back. She surveyed him for a moment, and then shook her head, "Stay here." She said, tersely. Then she left.

Reaver sat back with a sigh. Then the sleeping form next to him caught his attention. Jennings, Jenningson, Jenningsby. He rolled over slightly, placing a hand on the man's strong stomach and running it down his side. He smirked when he felt only warm skin. He was sure dearest Lily wouldn't mind them getting started without her.


	10. Empty

**Empty**

"Mama! Mama, open the door! _Mama_!"

The door stayed locked, and Liliana gave up trying to bust it open with a shoulder. She let out a low, frustrated snarl, and then placed a hand on the handle, sending burning heat roaring through it, biting her lip hard to prevent a whimper as white hot pain spread up her skin. There was a click as the bolt melted under the ferocious heat, and she yanked the door open, moving quickly into the room, bounding onto the bed, "_Mama_."

She was lying in bed, shaking, screwing up the bedcovers, thrashing around in her sleep. And screaming.

Lily instantly secured tight grips on her wrists, forcing her down into the bed, "Mama! Wake up! _Mama_!"

She didn't reply, shouting and yelling about something she could only guess at, writhing in the bed, and Lily had to concentrate ferociously to stop her from yanking back out of her grip, "Mama, you're _dreaming_! _Mama_! Snap out of it!" she lost grip on her wrists and managed to climb over her a bit, pinning her down by the shoulders, grabbing hold of either side of her face with difficulty, "Mama, come on! Please, Mama, come on, _listen_ to me! _Sparrow_!"

The name pulled her back like nothing else would, and she jerked upright with a hoarse gasp, instantly throwing Lily to the floor, a dagger she hadn't seen forced against her throat.

Then she hesitated, "_Lily_?"

Lily rolled her eyes, still doubled-over, pinned by a firm arm, "Oh, the thanks I get for coming to your aid..."

Jaina immediately retreated, "Oh God, I'm so sorry, are you alright?"

"I'm sure I'll live." She replied, putting a hand to the stinging cut on her throat.

Her mother's face paled even more than it was already, and she snapped out her hand, grabbing hold of her wrist and turning it over to see her palm, "What is _this_?"

"Oh. That." She shot a distasteful glance at the thick, painful burn, "That was... _improvisation_. _Must_ you lock your door?"

"Oh, Lil, I'm so sorry."

"Don't mention it. Though, if you could...?" she held out her hand, wincing slightly. Her mother nodded, immediately, and turned, rummaging through some things on her table before finding a health potion and passing it to her, "Here. Drink it all."

For once she did as she was told, feeling the soothing warmth flood her, giving a low sigh as the pain eased until there was not even a sliver of it. She touched the skin on her hand, glancing back up, "There. All better now. What about you."

Jaina looked at her, hesitantly, "I... I had another nightmare."

She rolled her eyes again, "You don't say. What was it this time, the Spire? Looked like a pretty bad one. Fairfax, maybe?"

"No."

"The Commandant? The banshees?"

"No."

"Then..." she looked at her for a moment, frowning, "_Who_?"

She looked at her. Then she shook her head, "I don't know."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know who it was."

Lily paused. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, subconsciously. Then she shook her head and sighed, pushing aside the twisted covers and settling down properly on the bed, "Tell me about it."

"I... I don't remember most of it. It's just... flashes."

"Then tell me about the flashes."

"Okay." Her mother took a deep, slow breath, preparing herself, "Okay. There... there was this girl. This young, pretty little girl. Say... eight. Nine. I don't know, I'm not good with ages."

"What did she look like."

"I... I don't know. She was... sort of... I don't know."

"Okay. Did she speak to you?"

She shook her head, frustrated, "I don't _know_. She was... _there_... in _front_ of me... And then..." she shook her head again, this time pressing a hand to her temple, as if she was in some sort of pain, "I hid. There was fire. Screams. Blood. Everything... everything was burning. The girl was screaming. _Avo_, she was... she was _screaming_. It was like that day, that day Lucien killed me, that day back with Rose, when... when everything burned."

"Do you know the girl's name?" she asked, gently. She didn't reply, and Lily put a hand on her arm. She flinched when she realised she was ice cold, but, instead of mentioning it, she just shot a fireball towards the fireplace, the wood already in there starting up instantly into a roaring blaze. Her mother gave a small shiver when she saw it, and Lily took her chin, moving her face back to hers, firmly, "What happened next."

"I... I was running to her. I... _ran_ to her. But I was too late. I was _far_ too late. Everyone was gone. Everyone was dead."

"And after that?" she asked, her voice soft, soothing, her hand leaving her face to sit gently on hers.

"After that... I don't remember."

Lily looked at her for a second. "You were screaming."

She frowned, blearily, "Was I?"

"Yes. Screaming. Yelling. Something about..." she paused for a moment, replaying the memory in her head, trying to discern any sense from what had seemed like ramblings, "Something about... not her - anyone, just... not her. Does that make any sense to you?"

She shook her head, slowly, "No. Not at all."

"Do you remember _any_thing?"

"I just remember feeling... _empty_. Just... _nothing_."

Empty. Nothing. Lily looked at her. She had talked about feeling 'empty' after Michael had been killed. After she'd lost her children. After Lucien had murdered them. She had just... closed down. Like she had so often in the Spire, like she had when she was a child, when Lucien had shot her and her sister through the heart. Just... stopped.

Lily nodded, slowly. She moved her hand up and down her mother's arm, and then shook her head, "Listen. This was just a dream."

"But, listen, there was this man, I _swear_ there was this man, and he, he told me -"

"Mama, listen to me. It was just a dream, please, Mama, calm down. It was just a dream. Just a nightmare. There is nothing to it. There is nothing _behind_ it. It... is just your brain. Your mind, working things out. It is not real. You know that, don't you."

"Of course I do. Of _course_ I do. It's just..." she hesitated a moment, and then shook her head, sinking into herself a little bit, "They just... _feel_ like they are."

"I know. I know, Mama." She paused for a moment, thinking. Then she shook her head and got to her feet. She walked over to the cupboard and pulled it open, dragging out a few more sheets and thick, soft blankets. She helped her mother into the chair beside the bed and then changed it, quickly, her eyes glimmering onto the ripped sheets, the blood covering them where she had dug her nails into her palms so hard it broke the skin. Showing a rare streak of screw-it-ness, she dumped the dirty linen on the floor, figuring she'd deal with it tomorrow.

She glanced at Jaina again, and sighed, helping her back to the bed, "You're exhausted. C'mon. Just back here."

After she was sure everything was okay, she turned back to the chair and dragged it back against the wall next to the head of the bed, throwing a duvet on it.

Jaina glanced at her, frowning, "What are you..."

She didn't look at her, instead fixing the blanket, "I'll sleep here tonight."

As she had been expecting, she immediately objected: "Lily, I don't need -"

"Your door's busted." She interrupted, firmly, "And, though I trust my crew, I do not trust Reaver." She sat down, pulling the blankets around her, "_Especially_ now you've gone into his room at night meaning to _shoot_ him."

Her mother had the good grace to wince, apologetically, "You know about that, huh."

"Yes. Now." She concentrated and threw out a wall of Will, dimming the fire to a gentle glow, "Shh. Try and get some sleep. I won't wake you unless I have to. Sleep in as long as you want."

There was a long silence, and then a weary shuffling as her mother finally seemed to agree and settle back down in bed, "G'night, Lily."

"Goodnight, Mama."

* * *

"Brent?"

The man finally looked up, glancing at him, "Aye?"

Greenfield hesitated, looking at him, "You alright?"

"Aye. Aye, I'm fine." The sailor went back to watching a specific part of the sea, frowning.

He paused again, and then followed his gaze, "What you lookin' at?"

"Nowt."

"You were never that good a liar. What you see."

"I jus'... I thought I saw somethin'."

Greenfield glanced at him, "Like what?" he looked back out again, shaking his head, "It's pitch black, you can't see _any_thing."

"Aye, I know, I jus'..." Brent shook his head, almost frustrated, "I _swear_ I saw..." he paused for a long time, and then shook his head again, "Never mind. I'm jus'... I guess I'm jus' tired."

"Y'know, you don't have to stay up here. I can handle just fine, if you wanna grab a few hours sleep."

"Nah, I'm fine. I _am_. I'm fine."

Greenfield sighed. Then he got to his feet, holding out a hand, "C'mon. You're exhausted, _look_ at you. Go to bed. I'll handle the deck for now. You're no use to us dead on your feet."

Brent staggered upright, shaking his head, wearily, "A'right. A'right, fine. See yeh tomorrow."

"Yeah." He hesitated, "Brent?"

The sailor turned back, "Aye?"

"What did you see."

He paused for a moment, and then shook his head, looking confused, "It was like... a _man_. A cloaked... _hooded man_."


	11. Captain of The Seraphim

**Captain of The Seraphim**

Lily returned to her cabin early, before daybreak. She paused at the door, cocking her head slightly to one side, thoughtfully. Then she moved over to the bed, and, without hesitation, threw off the covers.

Her eyes flickered over the shirtless pirate in her bed, noting his fine form, "You're still here?"

Reaver sat up, slowly, stretching out his arms, "Good morning to you too, Liliana."

She sighed and shook her head. Instead of replying she turned, moving over to her wardrobe to pull out some clothes. She saw the pirate watching her out of the corner of her eye, but ignored him, easily, and pulled out her red dress and a pair of black leggings. Then she glanced at him.

Reaver gave a slow smile, "Oh, don't mind me, my dear."

She raised an eyebrow, indifferently, "I wasn't intending to."

She turned her back, and, regardless of his eyes burning into her, pulled off her nightdress. She changed quickly and efficiently, smirking slightly as she heard the pirate shift in his spot behind her. When she had finished she turned back to him, adjusting the short skirt, "How you can have survived all those centuries on a ship when you cannot get out of bed in the morning is _beyond_ me. _Out_."

"No, I'm afraid I prefer it here, my dear."

She shook her head, rolling her eyes, "Suit yourself."

"We missed you last night, Liliana."

"I'm sure you had enough company in this bed, Reaver."

"Mm, would've been even nicer with you here."

"I thought I told you - I don't share." She turned again, pulling on her black pirate hat and turning to her mirror on her desk, taking a tube of red lipstick from the drawer, "Now. Some of us have work to do. If you insist on staying in my bed, Reaver, do try to not draw any more company. My men are distracted enough as it is."

She watched Reaver's reaction in the mirror as she started painting her lips, "Well, that hardly comes as a surprise... seeing how... _ravishing_ their Captain is."

Liliana didn't reply, concentrating on her makeup. She watched with a spark of caution as the pirate then smirked, amused, and got to his feet. She fought to stay relaxed as he moved behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders, moving close so she could feel his bare chest on her back. His eyes traced her neck and her back, and then moved onto her reflection. He gave a small, soft smile, brushing his hands over her bare skin, "Beautiful, as always."

She finished her lipstick and shook her head, putting the tube away, "I hardly see that as an appropriate way to speak to a lady, Reaver. Especially one without a ring."

"Ah, well, I've never been one for social taboos."

"I have no doubt of that."

He shook his head, amused. Then he looked at her reflection again, lifting a hand to just brush across her perfectly dreadlocked hair, "You know, my dear, I do believe I prefer your hair when it is _down_."

She raised an eyebrow, shooting him a sceptical glance in the mirror, "_I_ do believe you don't exactly have much _choice_ in the matter. I will wear my hair as I see fit... _Reaver_."

He smiled, and then brushed a hand across her cheek, slowly, "We never finished our conversation last night."

"As to whether you considered yourself a Don Juan? No. We didn't."

He gave a small, sensual smirk, and leaned down, kissing the skin where her neck joined with her shoulders, "I think it is fairly obvious... that I have no fear of hell." His voice was deepening, filling with an emotion she knew well.

"Yes. But Mr Juan de Tenorio _also_ had no fear. He acted on his own moralities, his own dishonourable intentions. Does the moral of his tale mean _nothing_ to you? Do you have _no_ fear of the repercussions of your deeds?"

"Oh, I assure you..." his tongue slipped out, sliding up her neck, "I barely sleep at night."

She turned to him, and, immediately, he forced her back against the table, hands tight on her shoulders, and kissed her, viciously.

* * *

Lily's hands reflexively went to his bare chest, sliding her fingers over his pure, unscarred skin. Reaver's grip on her was unyielding, ferocious, and he pulled her towards him with a fervour and possessiveness that she hadn't expected. Their mouths fought for dominance, and she was moderately surprised that he was putting up a good fight. She barely felt it as he pulled the hat off her head, but when his hands went into her hair and pulled it out of its tail she raised an eyebrow. She made a small, indignant noise in the back of her throat, and he laughed a little before taking her mouth again.

Reaver's hands were moving. They pushed up her skirt, stroking along her legs for a moment before continuing up, hooking onto the waistband of her leggings. His fingers found the line of her underwear too and slipped under that, slowly edging the fabric down.

"Captain!"

* * *

Liliana started, her eyes wide, fixing on the figure at the door, "Peters!" she looked at him for a second, and that was all she needed to calm herself again, "Never heard of knocking on a lady's door, sir?"

The sailor shook his head, "Sorry, ma'am, you're needed on the bow."

She looked at him for a few seconds, confused, "Who sent you?"

"Jefferson, Captain. He said it was important, ma'am."

"I have no doubt that it can wait." Reaver growled, his hands still on her legs, danger and warning burning in his voice, daring the man to contradict him.

Peters took the dare: "Actually, sir, I don't think it can."

The pirate's eyes narrowed. His fingers twitched, and then surprise moved over his face. He glanced down at his empty holster and then back up to her eyes.

Lily smirked, "Oh, the great Reaver strikes again. You'll find your weapon over there on the other side of the bed, and you will only retrieve it once Peters has left the room." She glanced up, giving the sailor a warm smile, "Thank you, Peters, please tell him I'll be along shortly."

"Yes, ma'am." The man turned and left, quickly. Smart kid.

Reaver, as she had expected, moved to retrieve his beloved Dragonstomper, "I do not take kindly to people disarming me, my dear."

"I am sure there are _many_ things you do not take kindly to, Reaver."

He returned to his place in front of her, "Now, where _were_ we..."

She smiled, "We were heading up to the bow to see why Jefferson needs my help."

He seemed to ignore her, placing his hands on her knees, "Mmm, from my ravishing little Captain..."

She raised an eyebrow, "_Your_ ravishing little Captain? I don't think so." She turned from him, picking up her hat and wincing when she glanced in the mirror and saw her lipstick now smeared over her lips. She sighed and picked up a piece of cloth.

Reaver stopped her hand, "No, leave it. It suits you."

She glanced at him, sceptically, and then gave a light laugh when she saw where most of the red makeup had ended up, "Yes, but not _you_, I'm afraid. Interesting new look."

He shrugged, smiling slightly, and then, slowly, licked the lipstick off. She shot him a look between wiping her own lips, and then nodded, "Much better. Now. I must depart to the bow. If you are to accompany me I suggest you get dressed."

"Now?"

"Yes, Reaver. Now."

Reaver gave a mocking sigh, and then shook his head, "Who _is_ this _Jefferson_, anyway."

"My first mate. Which is... _interesting_..."

"How so?"

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, looking into her eyes, not seeing them, "Jefferson... _never_ calls me to the bow. He's such a competent sailor he's never _needed_ my help." She thought for a second, "Must be quite the emergency..." she paused, and then shook her head, swiftness suddenly descending on her, grabbing her hat and pushing it quickly onto her head, stalking towards the door.

A hand opened it for her and she started slightly, glancing around. Reaver stood beside her, fully clothed, smirking slightly, "I'll admit, my dear, I'm intrigued. Maybe I will accompany you after all."

She nodded, casually, "Fine." She walked out the door, waiting for him, "This way."

He smiled again, "I know."

* * *

"Jefferson. Good morning."

"Good morning, Captain."

"I still can't get over calling you _Captain_..." Reaver muttered, and Liliana shot him a look that told him firmly that it was time to shut up.

She moved her eyes back to her first mate, "What can I do for you?"

"I could use some advice, Captain."

"That's what I'm here for," she said, easily, "What's wrong?"

"We're about to hit a storm."

She looked at him for a second, "We're at _sea_." She paused, "There better be more to this than you're saying, Jefferson."

He nodded towards the bow, "Look at it."

She paused again. Then she followed his gesture.

Liliana raised an eyebrow, slowly. Huge, black clouds lined the horizon ahead, the whole sea dark and ferocious, lit only by vicious bolts of lightning slamming down to meet the huge, breaking waves.

The Captain observed the tempest, "Hm. Well. Good call, Jefferson, good call."

Reaver looked over her shoulder, casually, but with the knowledge of an experienced sailor, "It's miles off. Ignore it."

"It's coming closer," Jefferson corrected, firmly, "At a remarkable pace."

"How fast, would you say?" Liliana asked, frowning curiously at the storm.

"Faster than us, Captain."

She glanced at him, quickly. She paused a second, her eyes flickering over him, as if validating his honesty, and then shook her head, "That's not possible."

"I'm only telling you what I've seen, Captain."

She just looked at him for a moment. Jefferson had been her first mate for five years, even longer than she had owned The _Seraphim_. He was an amazing sailor, and an astute man. She'd trust him with her life, and the lives of all of her crew.

But this... this wasn't possible.

Reaver was looking at the storm with scepticism, "A storm travelling at more than thirty-five knots? That's practically a hurricane."

"Except it's not, look at it." Liliana paused for a moment, "Ever seen anything like it?"

There was a pause as the far more experienced sailor seemed to battle with his answer, "No. No I have not." He paused again, and then shook his head, "That thing expands for two miles, at the least."

She shook her head, "We aren't going to go past it."

"You're planning to go _through_ it?" he asked, sceptically.

She shot him a small, charming smile, "Nope." She flexed her fingers and clicked out her neck, "You know how we were saying about Will?"

She moved forwardly, casually, perching herself right at the bow, "Been a long time since I got rid of a storm of this size," she commented, thoughtfully. She glanced back at the hand on her shoulder, "If you would _not_ touch me; I know all about your darling little possessive streak, but right now I need to concentrate."

Liliana paused for a moment, drawing in slow, long breaths. Her tongue moved over her bottom lip, unconsciously. Then she closed her eyes.

* * *

Reaver watched the pretty little thing, interested despite himself. She frowned a little, as if this Will was causing her some slight discomfort, and bit her lip. A gust of sea wind whistled around them, concentrating on her, billowing back her long blonde hair. She let her head fall back slightly, seemingly relishing the cold touch, and then, slowly, held out a hand.

The gust of wind moved, growing more and more powerful, and Reaver took a small step back despite himself. The wind was coming from her hands, she was commanding it. Liliana opened her gorgeous brown eyes, and they were sparkling, a tear slipped down her cheek, but she paid it no heed. She was concentrating solely on her hands, her Will, pounding it out of her and towards the storm.

But... nothing happened.

The young pirate visibly gritted her teeth, "It's not working. This... this is one _ferocious_ storm..." she adjusted her positioning on the bow, struggling a little as if she was holding back a physical weight, "If I could just..."

Reaver frowned slightly, watching her. Jefferson glanced at him, "Captain Liliana's Will is focussed around the elements. Namely fire, earth, air and water. Which, of course, makes her quite the pirate." His eyes slid back onto his Captain, "She's lead us out of more storms than any sailor I know."

"You're only as good as your next failing."

"For someone with such a humble view, Reaver," Liliana growled, shifting her weight yet again, "You really are an arrogant chauvinist."

He laughed, "Sorry, my dear, was that the wrong thing to say?"

She answered with a low growl, and he laughed again. Liliana shook her head and ignored him. She glanced over her shoulder and then, firmly, looked back at the storm.

Reaver followed her gaze. More sailors were gathering on the bow. They were all watching the way ahead of them, uneasily. A few had taken position by the masts, shifting, restlessly, ready to spring to action when an order was given.

Lily gritted her teeth. Then she paused. She glanced back over her shoulder, "Brent!"

"'Ere, Cap'n."

She paused for a second. Then she shook her head, "Give the order. Pull to starboard. We're going round."

"Aye, Cap'n."

"The storm's headed south-east, and fast," she said as the quartermaster moved off to shout orders at the men, "Towards us, but also towards port. If we pull north, we should miss it." Then she shook her head, "But it's miles long. I don't know if we'll still be able to get around it."

"But you can get rid of it." Jefferson said, frowning slightly.

She looked at the storm for a moment. Then she glanced at him, "Jefferson, if you would be kind enough to call my mother up from her cabin."

He immediately moved towards the entrance to the lower decks, "Something wrong, Captain?"

She shook her head, "Nothing. I... I'm tired. I could use a hand with this thing."

"Right away, Captain."

The man walked away, and Reaver glanced at her, "Why did you lie?"

"I didn't lie. Sleeping next to the Nightmare Queen, I may as well have not slept at _all_."

He looked up at the storm. It looked closer. Remarkably closer. "Your Will isn't working, is it."

"It _will_ work," she replied, firmly, "I just don't want to push too hard too quick. It will work. For my Will to be powerless against a simple _storm_, that's just... it's just not possible."

"Except it's not just a simple storm, is it."

Liliana glanced at him, catching his eyes. Then she shook her head, turning her concentration back to where it was needed.

Reaver's gaze flickered over her again. Her eyes were still watering, her muscles were all tensed, and she was digging her heels into the deck like if she didn't she would be blown away by the increasing wind.

"Liliana."

* * *

Jaina moved over to her, swiftly, tightening the army-style buckles on her jacket against a quite strong wind. She caught sight of Reaver and froze for a second, glaring at him, "What's _he_ doing here."

Liliana shook her head, "Don't ask. Help me."

She immediately reacted, going to her side. They were close enough to not feel any sort of embarrassment at asking each other for aid, but Lily barely ever did. A pirate's pride, she guessed. Whatever it was, she really needed help.

Jaina glanced at the horizon her daughter was staring at, and gave a low whistle, "Holy shit."

"Ever seen anything like it?"

"Once. Years ago. Decades."

"Where."

"Coming back from the Spire. On the way to Oakfield." She glanced at her, uneasily, "I tried to create a storm, a small one, to keep the ship going. But I was a bit..."

"Overzealous?"

"Overemotional. I wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could. My Will, as well, was a bit..." she searched for the right word, "_Energetic_. I created something like that." She paused, "Not as big as that, though..." it seemed even closer since the last time she had looked at it, even bigger, clouds of violet and black swelling over a heaving sea, jagged strips of lightning illuminating the ocean. She glanced at the hull, the direction they were going, "You're gunna go round?"

"If we can. But for now, if you could...?"

She nodded, and moved to her side. She took a moment to stretch out her muscles, and closed her eyes for a second, calming herself. "Tell your guys... it's gunna get a lot colder in here."

Lily nodded, swiftly, and turned to her crew, "Alright, listen up! It's not going to be fine sailing from here out! Pull your act together and we'll do the same! Apart from that..." she paused, and then shook her head, slowly, "Say your prayers. Do your rituals. Whatever you like. Right now... we need all the help we can get."


	12. Never Say ‘Drowned’ at Sea

**Never Say 'Drowned' at Sea**

"This... this is impossible."

Reaver thought the girl sounded like she had to force the words out of her mouth. She looked completely spent, only just remaining standing, hands out, trying to keep the tempest at bay. Beside her, Sparrow had fallen to her knees, wincing, her jaw tight, pain splintering across her features, just like that time back in Bloodstone. The blue lines across the little skin he could see were ferociously bright, standing out like lightning, and there were sparks of the same moving over _Lily_, too, as if the effort they were using was forcing the Will lines into existence on her white skin.

Her mother didn't reply, buckled on the deck, her panting breaths tight and uneven. Rain smashed down onto them, and Reaver was no longer sure whether it was because of the Heroes' storms or the one they were facing. The men on the bow kept working, tirelessly, frantically, tugging wires tight and fighting to keep their footing as the waves started battering at the strong ship, the wind blowing hard enough to force one back a step if one would let it.

"Captain!" the man who Reaver thought was the boatswain yelled out over the sound of the storm.

The young pirate grimaced, "What is it!"

"The wind, it's changed direction! The storm's headed straight for us!"

Liliana let out a low growl, "No _way_." She forced her head up, looking. Reaver looked too. The pirate was right. The storm was coming towards them. And quicker than before, _much_ quicker.

The young girl let off a few colourful curses that he was sure she had picked up from her mother. Then she shook her head, slowly, "It's following us."

"How can a _storm_ _follow_ us." The boatswain snarled.

"This is no natural storm."

"What the hell d'you mean?"

She glanced at him, "I mean maybe you should try looking up."

Reaver's eyes darted up, and his breath caught in his throat despite himself. The sky had turned blood red, and giant cracks moved across it, splintering it into pieces. Dark black storm clouds swirled overhead, shots of silent lightning sending them into disarray. The air was thick; he could feel it buzzing around him. Saint Elmo's Fire danced on the masts and the bow, the strange violet a stark contrast to the blisteringly red sky.

A bolt of fiery red lightning streamed down from the sky, striking a point somewhere in the sea in front of them. Reaver heard Liliana let out something between a whimper and a snarl as the light burned through her eyes, but she kept pushing, "It's going to hit us, and it's going to hit us hard. Mama - do you think you could shield the ship?"

The woman looked like she could barely _stand_. She shook her head, gasping, "I don't know."

"Then try. That... that thing's going to be like sailing straight into a _wall_."

"Can you... keep it back on your own?"

"I don't know. Let's find out."

"Okay. Ready? Now."

* * *

Jaina released her Will, and Liliana buckled under the doubled strain. The force threw her backwards, and she felt hands catch her shoulders. She glanced back. Reaver looked at her, raising an eyebrow, for once his cocky demeanour vanished. She paused, and then turned her attention back to the storm, throwing everything she had at it.

The hands tightened on her shoulders as the force started pushing her back along the deck. She stumbled and the hands held her, kept her upright. If she had been capable of comprehensible thought, she would have been amazed. Tears streamed down her face. It hurt. She had never known Will to hurt before, but this was something new. She felt drained, weak, pain racking through her, every muscle objecting at the strain.

The storm forced her back a step, but Reaver managed to get the foremast at his back, keeping them still.

"Mama?" she managed, forcing the word out of her mouth.

"I... I'm fine. I... I don't know... how long this is going to hold."

Pain slammed through her temples, causing her to cry out, and then grit her teeth, firmly biting back her pain, "Jefferson!"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Drop the lifeships! Start getting people off! _Now_!"

"Yes, Captain."

Liliana struggled, feeling light-headed, dizzy, the constant downpour not helping in the slightest. Freezing seawater smashed directly into her face and she gasped, shaking her head at the temperature. Shudders were racking through her whole body. She couldn't keep this up for much longer. She couldn't see. Pain burned through her.

A hand fell on her arm, "Captain. Come with me."

She shook her head, firmly, "As soon as I let go... this thing is going to crash straight into us."

"It's going to anyway. Come to the lifeships. The Seraphim's down, Captain."

She jerked her head again, "No! I _stay_! Go, Jefferson. Get on that ship. That's an order."

Another waved crashed against them, violently, throwing her slightly. She finally succumbed to the power and the environment, falling to her knees, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched. Someone knelt with her, and she tried to shrug the hands off her, "_Go_! _NOW_!"

"Liliana!"

She recognised the voice. She managed to raise her head, blearily, "Mama!"

"This... this thing's gunna hit. _Now_. Get... get ready."

"Brace yourself." Someone muttered into her ear. She nodded, firmly. One hand went down to her holster, and she yanked at it, weakly, tightening it against her skin. She looked around her, narrowing her eyes against the downpour, and then finally wrapped her arm tightly around a wire attached to the mast, keeping herself grounded.

She nodded, grimly, "Look after yourself."

"I will." Sparrow panted from somewhere behind her.

"Three. Two. One. _Brace_!"

* * *

The storm hitting felt like a physical blow to the face. It threw Liliana back, and it seemed not even Reaver could stop her this time. The wire snapped and the ground left her. Her back collided painfully with the deck, and she fought to drag herself back to her feet. Her Will automatically released and though she should have felt heat, warmth, relief, she felt nothing but pain. Everything happened so fast. There was darkness. Thunder. Noise. Just noise. The floor bucked underneath her. She fell again. There was screaming. Pain coursed through her.

"_LILIANA_!"

Noise. Her men. There were shouts and yells. Fire streamed from the sky. Her men. She dragged herself back to her feet. Freezing water gushed over her, she was on her knees again. Screaming. Pain, fear, anger, she couldn't tell. Maybe it was her. She didn't know. The floor left her, she was sliding, falling. She felt herself fall overboard like she had fallen into a bath of ice. Pain split again, the ice burned. Water filled her lungs and she choked, coughed, tried automatically to take in another breath, but she was still under. Up. Air. She choked, spluttered, air and water, stinging. Still noise, just noise. Fire burned. Light sparked in the darkness, lightning, fire. She dragged in another breath. Something came towards her, fast. Something big, hard. Everything brightened. Sound collapsed. And then there was nothing.


	13. Shipwreck

**Shipwreck**

"Wake up."

She managed to drag her head to one side, immediately regretting it. Everything hurt.

"Liliana. _Wake up_."

"No." She said, her throat cracking with the effort. She groaned, feeling like she was going to split in two. "Mama?" she asked, weakly.

"Not quite, my dear. Now, if you would be so kind as to wake yourself up, before I think of some rather fun ways to do it _for_ you."

She groaned again. Reaver. Just fantastic. "Why couldn't you be a gentleman and drown?"

"Oh, such harsh words, dear Lily! What a way to greet a friend!"

"Friend? I goddamned doubt it."

"Whatever you say. Now. Are you going to wake yourself up, or would you rather try it my way. Though, to be honest I better not... might kill you."

"Reaver, be a dear and shut up, there's a good man..."

She forced open her eyes, and then promptly winced, closing them again. She settled on slowly levering herself upright instead, bracing her weight heavily on her arms. Her hands sunk down a little, and she frowned, glancing down at the floor. Sand. She was on a beach.

She shook her head, a little dazedly, "What happened. I... I can't remember."

"We hit a storm." The pirate explained, casually, "Anything other than that... I have no idea."

"A storm..." she shook her head again, rapidly, trying to snap herself out of it, "Yeah. I remember." Her eyes shot open, suddenly, "Mama. Where is she."

Reaver rolled his green eyes, lazily, "She went for a walk. Due to me apparently being an insufferable prick."

She shook her head, "I don't _believe_ her."

"Why thank you."

"I mean, why would she wander off on an island we know nothing about?" she ignored the pirate's raised eyebrow, instead shaking her head and pushing herself into a sitting position, "Which way."

"North. And not too fast," Reaver cautioned, quickly, as she made to stand, "You're injured."

"I am?" she looked down at herself. Her upper torso was bare apart from her bra, and there was a torn piece of cloth wrapped around her stomach, coloured red with blood. Her fingers moved to brush against the makeshift bandage, "What is it?"

"The wound? Puncture. It's not deep, but you have lost quite a bit of blood."

"Have I..." she applied a gentle pressure, and wasn't surprised when she didn't feel that much pain. She glanced herself over again, looking for the main source, and was surprised when she found the most painful injury was probably a small, gash-like burn on the back of her hand. She pulled it up to her face and grimaced, "It is surprising how much the little wounds pain, when the bigger ones are easily ignored..."

"What's that?"

She showed it to him, "A burn. From when the bow caught, no doubt."

"Hmm. Let me see." He took hold of her hand, remarkably gently, his skin soft against hers. She took the moment to look him over, and decided it was outrageously unfair that, even after a shipwreck, he still managed to look like an only slightly dishevelled version of his handsome self. She looked herself over. Her dreadlocks were coming apart, hanging down by her shoulders, and she was very pale, the parts of her skin that where not deathly white either black or blue with bruises or still shimmering with the echoes of her drained Will lines. She had blood smeared all over her, and the little amount of clothing she was wearing - though probably preferable to the pirate in front of her - was not particularly her cup of tea.

She moved her eyes back up to his. He was observing her wound with interest. And then, suddenly, he pulled her hand up to his lips, and pushed his mouth over it.

Liliana's eyebrows raised, wincing slightly as she felt his tongue move over the burn, "Reaver?"

He withdrew a little, smirking at her, "I'm soothing it. I'd suggest dousing it in saltwater, but it seems you have already done so. This will help."

He moved back again, licking and sucking gently on the burned skin. Lily was now almost frowning at him, feeling the whole situation was quite surreal seeing as she had just woken. She paused for a second, and then gave her hand a small tug. He released her, and she pulled back. She looked down at her hand. Amazingly, it had worked. Her pain had dulled. She glanced back up at him, surprised, "Uh... thank you."

He smirked again, "You're very welcome."

She looked at him for a second. She was suddenly very aware about her lack of clothing. Of course, he had seen her in less before, on The Seraphim, but the situation here was different, and she decided she would dearly like to find some new clothes, and soon.

She paused, and then shook her head, glancing back down at the covered wound on her stomach, "Puncture wound. From what, exactly?"

"Darling Sparrow said it might have been when the masts fell."

"When the masts fell..." she glanced up. They weren't that far up the beach. The whole cove was covered in bits of splintered wood, cloth, fabric. Liliana gave a low groan, "Oh, my _ship_..." a flicker of emotion went over her, "And my crew..." she glanced at him, "Were there any other survivors?"

"Doubt it." He replied, easily, settling back on the sand again, "Your dearest mother said something about our Hero blood protecting us. Your crew were just human. They're all dead."

Liliana let out a long, slow breath, "Well," she said, heavily, "That is unfortunate." She paused for a moment, and then shook her head, "No use sitting around. Let me go, I want to get up."

"Oh, my dear, but down here you are so much more..." his fingers brushed from her shoulder down to her hand, "_Accessible_..."

She shot him a raised eyebrow, and then shook her head, brushing his hands off her and getting unsteadily to her feet. She paused for a moment, judging her footing, and then took a few hesitant steps. Her muscles were worn, and did not appreciate the movement so soon after the exertions of the shipwreck, but they would cool down with time.

She stretched out her muscles, meticulously, clicking out her back and her neck. Then she looked around her. The beach continued for quite a way, and further up shore it merged into forestland, the trees tropical and unfamiliar to her. She hesitated, and then turned back to Reaver, who was still sat on the sand, "Now. You said Mama went north, correct?"

"Yes. But she told me to suggest that you stay here."

"Why."

"The island did not look that large from the sea. She said she would go round, see what this... _marvellous_ place has to offer. She'll be back by nightfall."

Liliana looked at him for a moment, "So she just expects me to sit here and wait for her."

The pirate raised an eyebrow, lazily, "Why yes, I think she does."

She shook her head, frustration and a little anger clicking into place, "I don't _believe_ her."

"Her decision is wise, my dear. If you were to go too, you may miss each other. Lose your way. At least, this way... she knows where you are. You will see each other again, at least."

"Since when has the Pirate King been so concerned with the actions of two Heroes?"

He smirked, "Since both of them are very attractive, and we are now stranded on a desert island. Doesn't have to be complicated, my dear."

She rolled her eyes. Then she turned her attention back to the beach. She thought it through, quickly, and then shook her head, "Fine. I'll do as she says. Just this once."

"Excellent."

"How so?"

His smile deepened, "Because now I have you all to myself for an unspecified amount of time."

She shook her head, glancing at him, distractedly, "Sorry. I'm going to be busy in a few minutes anyway."

"And why is that?"

"The tide's turning. Soon it's going to wash up every last piece of that shipwreck." She paused for a second. "Including the crew."

* * *

Jaina cursed violently under her breath, and gave the splintered piece of wood a vicious kick. She glanced down at the new source of blood and surprisingly sharp pain on her ankle and shook her head, continuing on into the forest. She hated leaving Liliana alone with that scum, but she had no other choice. That wound on her chest looked bad, and she had already used all her potions on her. She could only hope that she'd stumble across civilisation on this rock and that someone would be willing to help them. And, seeing as when either of them got together someone ended up getting shot, it was probably for the best that Reaver had chosen to stay at the beach.

If he so much as touched her, she'd kill him.

Of course, Liliana could take care of herself. But just the _thought_ of leaving her alone with him was causing deep shocks of unease to run through her stomach.

_Get yourself together!_ Her mind screamed at her, _She's a goddamned __**pirate**__! If there's __**any**__one you should be worried about, it's __**Reaver**__!_

A small smile flittered over her lips, and then disappeared when the thought came to mind that Lily might actually kill him. Then she shook her head. No. No, she wouldn't do that. Not when she knew just how much _she_ wanted to be the one holding that pistol.

She stepped up to get over a fallen tree, and winced as she dropped onto the floor on the other side. Her hand went to her waist, and she grimaced again at the still fresh pain. She had come out of the shipwreck rather well, all in all, with the only open wound being an extended slice along her abdomen where she'd hit the ship rail. Plenty of nice fresh bruises, of course, but they were hardly life threatening. The wound was still bleeding, even through the cloth she'd tied around it.

That storm... Avo, all the questions that needed answering. She couldn't wait to get back to Lily and discuss it. It was just... wrong. She'd never seen anything so ferocious, so... _unstoppable_. And _Lily_ hadn't, either, and her daughter had been on a ship for a whole lot longer than she had. A Pirate Captain knows things. They know what dangers can be faced, and what dangers are too treacherous to even think about.

"_This is no natural storm."_

Jaina shook her head, firmly, continuing at a slightly heightened pace. She couldn't be sure. She hadn't had enough time, but...

She was getting paranoid. She must be. But, for a moment in that storm, she _swore_ she'd seen something. Just a flash, for less than a second.

The rain was in her eyes. All her energy was focussed on her Will, her whole attention on the storm. She hadn't seen anything, it was just her imagination, just a blur.

But, for a moment there... she was _sure_ she'd seen it. And then the storm fully hit and everything went mad, but before that...

She'd seen a man. She knew she had. A cloaked... hooded man.

* * *

"That storm wasn't natural. I know a Will-infused storm when I see one. And _that_... that was one."

"But no-one knows Will in Albion save you, your gorgeous mother, and the sorcerer."

Liliana shook her head, moving at a fast pace back down the beach again, despite the pain this brought up in her wound, "I know. Only a Hero is capable of using Will, and the Hero line stops with us. The Three Heroes and the Fourth Hero's daughter." She glanced at him, "Unless you've got several illegitimate children that I don't know about."

Reaver grimaced, "Most _definitely_ not."

"Good. So, unless it was _Garth_... there's another Hero around here that we don't know about. It's the only explanation."

"Unless, of course, it was just a particularly bad storm."

"I've seen particularly bad storms, Reaver. I've sailed through monsoons. Hurricanes. Flash floods. This was like none of them. This was Will. I know it."

"You've seen many storms during your pirate life?"

"Yes. Most I divert, or maybe soften the blow a little. Some I keep. Pays to make sure the men don't panic during a storm." She leaned down, taking a strong hold on the next one, once again forcing her mind elsewhere as blood dripped over her body, "I've seen a lot of things in a short amount of time. I've seen barren wastelands and tropical rainforests. And I've seen many good men die."

"You're quite used to death, then." He observed, casually.

She nodded, grimacing as she took the corpse onto her shoulder and heaved it up the beach, "Yes. I am. One living the lifestyle I do would _have_ to be, really."

"Not affected at _all_ anymore, then?"

She let the man down, placing him next to the others. She paused, looking at him, and then closed his eyes. "Henson. Good man. Good sailor." She turned back to Reaver, "I am not unaffected. I am merely... _resigned_. People die. That's the way the world is."

"Except you." He said, pointedly.

She paused again. Then she shook her head, "Yes. Saving my mother and I. And _you_, of course."

The pirate looked at her for a second. Then he nodded at the corpses, "What will you do with them?"

She straightened up, dusting her hands off on her leggings, "Field strip them. Take weapons, potions... gold, anything valuable... catalogue them... then burn the bodies. Cremation." She walked back down the beach towards another few bodies, "They've gone down to Davey Jones' locker anyway. I have the crew manifest. When I get back to a civilised port I'll try to inform their next of kin. Any that come forward can have their loved one's effects." He raised an eyebrow, and she gave a small laugh, shaking her head, "I don't plunder from my own crew, Reaver. Even if they are dead."

"Not _much_ of a pirate, are you?"

She laughed again. Then she looked at him for a second, smiling, thoughtfully, "You know, my mother once told me that the first time she met you she could remember thinking that it was just her luck she had to recruit you. She went to Bloodstone expecting to find a Hero who happened to be a pirate, and what she found... Well. What she found was quite the opposite."

"A pirate who happened to be a Hero."

"Indeed." She hurled another corpse onto her shoulder, and then shot him a look, "You could always help, you know."

He gave a charming smile, "I don't think so, my dear."

She rolled her eyes. Then she shook her head, "Then do something useful and get a fire going. We could do with a beacon for passing ships. And, besides..." she glanced up at the sky, warily, "Night will be soon. And we don't know what sort of creatures inhabit those forests. We don't want to be caught unaware. Do we."


	14. A Matter of Luck

**A Matter of Luck**

"So has enough time passed yet?"

The Third Hero glanced at her, raising an eyebrow, "For what?"

"For it to be polite for us to talk after cremating a few dozen bodies."

He seemed to consider his answer, "I was not aware that there _was_ a polite amount of time to refrain from speaking after cremating a few dozen bodies."

"Ah. Perhaps not. Here, this will do." Liliana moved forwards and picked up a few more splintered pieces of wood to drag back to the growing fire.

"Does it hurt that we are now gathering pieces of your precious Seraphim's hull to place in our fire?"

"Very much so. But I value my life over my already wrecked ship. Here." She bundled a few planks of wood into his arms, ignoring his raised eyebrow, and then bent down to pick up some herself, "I think that's about enough wood for until - What's this?"

She knelt down in the sand beside the remarkably whole wooden chest, frowning over it, "It survived the storm."

"Chance. What's in it?"

"It's locked." She hurled it under her free arm, wincing slightly, "And _heavy_." She dumped it down back beside the fire, turning her head away from the smoke, "I need a thin piece of wood."

"This do?"

"Probably. Let's find out."

She pressed the wood into the gap and then forced it down. The chest burst open first try.

Reaver raised an eyebrow, "That was easy."

"I'm a Hero. And it's probably been in the water some time. The wood's swollen." She yanked the trunk open, and smiled, "Well," she stated, bringing out a few dusty bottles and chucking one to Reaver, "It appears all was not a _total_ loss."

He frowned at the unlabeled bottle of alcohol, "Rum?"

"Rum." He glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow, and Lily laughed, "Oh, come, you cannot be a pirate without having a taste for a glass or ten of ol' Sandgoose!" he just looked at her and she laughed again, shaking her head, "Unbelievable... Here. Try this."

"What is it?"

"Port."

"What type?"

"I believe... it is similar to that used in a Bloodstone Brainsplinter." She caught his raised eyebrow and gave a small wry smile, "Just kidding. It's Any Port in a Storm." She looked down at the bottle, thoughtfully, "Quite appropriate, in this case."

She took the top artfully off the bottle and drank the stinging spirit straight, much to the apparent amusement of the pirate in front of her, "What?"

"You and your darling mother really are a breed apart, aren't you."

She shrugged, "In our tastes in alcohol? Most probably. But, then, she never was a wine person, and your little stunt only served to further that trait."

"Mmm... I suppose it did..." Reaver paused, and then settled down into the sand, taking a lazy sip of his port, "Well now," he began, smiling slightly, "We have alcohol... a roaring fire... a completely empty beach... how should we spend the time?"

"Well," she said, thoughtfully, "I suppose we could tell tales. Is that not what most men do after shipwrecks? Come, Reaver. I am sure you must have _plenty_ of tales of fierce storms and exotic islands and bountiful treasures."

"There's only one bountiful treasure I'm interested in at the moment."

"Sorry. I don't date outside of my century." He cocked an eyebrow and she smirked over the rim of her bottle, "You must admit it's quite the age gap."

"Wasn't what you said last night."

"Yes. But that was last night. This is _this_ night. Plans change."

"Mmm... you say that... but, strangely, I don't believe you, my dear."

She raised her eyebrows, "And why is that?"

"Well, you're not particularly making it any easier for me, are you?" he nodded at her almost bare top, "Especially with the formidable choice of clothing."

"Not a real _choice_, as I remember it."

"You could have taken a shirt from any of those men at any time, and yet you didn't."

She glanced up at him, "Of course I didn't. Bad luck to wear a drowned sailor's clothing."

"_Is_ it now."

"For a pirate you don't know many marine superstitions."

"For a _Hero_ you know far too _many_."

She took another long sip, "Yes. Well. _You_ are a Hero, too, you know."

"By name only, my dear."

"Oh. That's a pity." He cocked an eyebrow, but she continued, ignoring him, "Fine. I'll start. Let me think, a relevant story... Oh. I've got one." She caught his eyes and gave a lopsided smile, "My first shipwreck."

* * *

Jaina had never been so happy to see the end of a forest in her life. She automatically veered towards it, watching her footing as the undergrowth yet again strived to send her crashing down into it, and practically skipped out onto the long, white beach.

It was getting darker, but, though she didn't particularly want to be still walking after nightfall, she knew she didn't exactly have much of a choice. She moved east, planning on going clockwise around the island's edge, having no intention of going back into that forest again.

The sand felt strange below her booted feet. She wasn't used to it. The majority of beaches in Bloodstone had been all stone - dark, damp, pebbly coves. The only sandy beach she had stumbled across was the bay they'd come out into after negotiating Reaver's escape tunnel, somewhere to the south.

Her teeth gritted automatically. And again Reaver had wormed his way into her mind, accompanied by the usual shot of anger. She couldn't go on like this, with just the very thought of him making pure fury burn in her chest. He had to die. That was all there was to it. He had to die.

Smoke up ahead caught her attention. Jaina froze, automatically, her eyes fixing onto it, cautiously. Smoke. Smoke from a fire. Smoke from a fire in a _chimney_.

A chimney attached to a small wooden house.

* * *

"You've been in many shipwrecks?"

"I'm afraid not. Three, to this day."

"So what was special about this one?"

Liliana leant back against the fallen tree, thoughtfully, "Okay. Ten years ago. I was thirteen. Onboard a ship called The Coral Star; the Captain was one Lane Giles. Absolute _pig_ of a man, but... I tolerated him. He was a good sailor."

"Not so much if you were shipwrecked."

She cocked an eyebrow, feeling the beginnings of anger spark inside of her, "If you recall, _I_ was just shipwrecked, Reaver. Are you saying something similar?"

Reaver smirked, "You don't like that, _do_ you? You can handle people talking almost anything else, but you can't handle them telling you you're bad at your _occupation_. Why is that, I wonder?"

"Because I'm _not_." she replied, instantly, her voice murderously soft. Lily paused, and then drew in a breath, stabilising herself. For a moment there, she'd almost lost control. But no matter. She was fine now. "So. This shipwreck. The Star. It wasn't a storm, nothing like this one. It was dark, and overcast, and... we hit something. Tore the bow right in two, _easily_. The Star was down before we even knew what had happened. Hardly anyone survived. Me, a few of the crew, the Captain... everyone else perished."

"And what was it?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you hit?"

Lily paused for a moment, her eyes fixed on the sea. Then she shook her head, abruptly, "I don't know. That was what was so... _frustrating_ about it. I have no idea."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean... there was _nothing_. We were marooned somewhere north of Albion, far north. There was the wreck of our ship, sinking, damaged beyond repair, but... nothing else. There was nothing for miles and miles. Nothing could have hit us, but... something did."

Reaver looked at her for a moment, "What did your Captain think?"

"Giles? Oh, he thought it was a kraken."

"A _kraken_?"

"Yes." She paused, and then shook her head, "I mean, I'd heard stories, but never did I actually think... But, then, so many realities morph into stories over generations. Myths."

"Myths like krakens?" he still sounded sceptical.

Liliana shook her head, slowly, "Strange things happen at sea. Things that cannot be explained. Well, without reverting to ridiculous superstitions, anyway. Cats and silver coins and bells and cormorants, I've heard them all. Fridays, the first Monday in April, the second Monday in August, stepping onto a boat with your left foot first, it's all nonsensical twaddle."

"So then," he started, thoughtfully, "If it is all just a matter of luck... what fates did _we_ tempt on The Seraphim?"

She breathed out, heavily, thinking it through, "Well, we did have three women onboard. _Frightful_ bad luck. Though, there was one _naked_ woman onboard - thanks to you. That's supposed to be _good_ luck, though Avo knows _why_..."

He smirked, "I'm glad to have been of assistance."

"Oh, I'm sure you are, Reaver. I'm sure you are."

"You sound disapproving."

"Not _disapproving_, per se. More..._ indifferent_, I'm afraid." She shook her head and took another sip of her rum, "You can spend your time with any man or woman that takes your fancy, and, believe me, it wouldn't mean a thing to me."

"Is that so..." he watched her for a moment, "So I assume you wouldn't mind me... staying round for a little _longer_, then?"

She cocked an eyebrow, "Oh?" she asked, casually.

"Well. There is something me and darling little Sparrow haven't quite _discussed_ yet..."

Liliana knew it was bad manners to laugh, but she did anyway. "You know what, Reaver, go ahead. Feel free. I could use some entertainment value."

He nodded, complying, "Of course, I have heard that little Sparrow isn't exactly the most... _forthcoming_ of women."

She glanced at him, "And you're sure about that, are you?"

He raised an eyebrow, "You have reason to believe otherwise?"

Lily shook her head, smiling, "Oh, Reaver, you truly have no idea, do you? She's changed far more than you realise, I'm afraid.

"_Has_ she." He looked at her for a long time, and then nodded, "Enlighten me."

She shook her head again, "Well, let's just say that she's not quite as _inhospitable_ as she used to be."

He raised an eyebrow, nodding, thoughtfully, his voice as laid-back as if they were discussing the weather: "Is that so? She's always been quite... _obdurate_ with me..."

She shook her head, casually, "Well, that's because she doesn't hate herself enough around you yet. Work on her anger a little bit, then her pride. You never know, maybe she'll throw you a sympathy fuck."

He raised the brow again. To her knowledge, it was probably the first time he had heard her curse, and her nearly-ostentatious voice, like his, had not deviated a semitone. He seemed to find that... interesting. He gave a slow smile, "Dear Lily, how cold!" he mocked, sliding a hand onto her bare arm, "You seem to know just what will affect me."

She shot him an amused glance, "A man with an ego as big as yours, it's not exactly difficult to guess."

"Hmm. And such vulgar language from such a pretty face."

She shook her head, raising an eyebrow in admission and returning to her bottle, "Well, I have just lost my ship. I'm stranded on an island I don't know. I am... _well_ on my way to being completely intoxicated right now..." she glanced back up at him, "And I'm chatting away to the man who tried to rape and sell my mother. Though I have been inebriated on many occasions, these other experiences are new to me." She took a long swig, finishing the drink easily, "It appears you are proving a bad influence, Mr Reaver."

"Oh, my dear, I think the chances for influencing _you_ have _long_ passed."

She gave a small, private smile, "Yes. Yes, I think you are right in that..."

* * *

"Hello?" Jaina pushed the door open, hesitantly. She paused, and then took a few steps in, "_Hello_? Anyone there?"

There was no answer. She took a few more delicate steps forwards. There was a small fire in the hearth, flickering, look like it had only been going for half an hour or so, at the _most_. She took a step towards it, and her foot crunched on something. She glanced down, shifting her weight. Glass. There was a frame of a delicate, glass clock on the floor, shattered. Next to it was a smear of black.

She crouched down, slowly. She paused, and then put out a hand, running a finger slowly along the stain. Gunpowder.

A shiver went down her spine, and she straightened up, quickly, hands going towards her pistol, cursing violently when she realised it had gone missing some time during the shipwreck. Instead she conjured a small fireball, her Will twitching a little as it objected to use so soon after the exertions of the wreck, but she firmly kept it strong.

Everything was silent. Not a soul.

"Reaver." She asked, quietly.

No-one replied.

She looked around the small house. It looked like only two rooms. This one was kitchen, dining, living. There was a door over to the right of the one she had entered.

Jaina moved over to it and then hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle. A tingle went through her fingers for a second. This was too much. But, no. It was _nothing_. Her heart was hammering inside her chest, and for _what_? A damned sense of déjà vu?

But this was familiar. _Too_ familiar, even for déjà vu. It felt like one of her little freak-out moments, her flashbacks, the memories, the shivers, the shakes, the feel of the Spire Guards' whips on her back, that one single gunshot, that day on Heroes' Hill.

Except it wasn't the Spire, not this time. Or Fairfax Castle. Or the banshees, or Nightmare Hollow, or the balverines, _or_ Rose. Or Michael. This was something different. This was the girl. And the man. The man that talked to her in cryptic words and... She couldn't remember.

Empty. An empty house. A fire in the grate. A broken clock. Gunpowder. No Commandant, fortunately, just... a door.

_This_ door.

Jaina hesitated for one last second. And then flung the door open.

* * *

Reaver watched the beauty in front of him. Liliana sat comfortably on the sand, her back braced against a fallen tree trunk, one strong, unfortunately clothed leg bent at the knee and pulled up easily to her chest, the other stretched out in front of her. It was dark, and the flickering light of the fire made her pale skin glow, her blonde hair back down by her shoulders where it had been so carefully taken down from its dreadlocks.

But, however casually she sat, Reaver knew there was something wrong. She hadn't spoken for some time, and, though it was an amiable silence, it was clear she was thinking hard.

Reaver watched her for some time. It was quite obvious what occupied her thoughts. It had long since passed sunset. The moon was big and bright against the sea-lined horizon, but the only noise was the gentle lap of the waves against the sand and the far-off sound of island bugs. It was obvious what the beautiful ex-Captain was waiting for.

"Something wrong?" he asked, casually.

Liliana kept her eyes on the fire, not looking the slightest bit surprised at his sudden interjection, or at the fact that he had read her so easily. She nodded, slowly, and licked her lips, the flickering light making this action even more obvious to the pirate's eyes. "Mama should be back by now."

She paused for a moment, and then glanced up, quickly. She just looked at him, her eyes projecting the slightest amount of suppressed concern, but mostly... defiance. Like she was daring him to say something, daring him to confront her about the way her fingers tapped restlessly against her thigh, the way her gorgeous brown eyes constantly moved over the completely empty beach.

Mother and daughter looked so alike at this moment. The silent concern, _eating_ at them. Pride refusing to let it come forth. And, not that he didn't appreciate little Sparrow's crimson orbs, but there was nothing like seeing that sort of suppressed emotion in those amazingly familiar eyes. It took him back.

"Yes," he replied, easily, "I suppose she _should_."

The eyes stayed on him for a moment. Then the young pirate shook her head, getting effortlessly to her feet, "I'm going to find her."

"She did say to wait."

"Yes. And she _also_ said she would be back by nightfall. _She_ didn't listen to her own words, so why should I." She picked up what must have been the fifth bottle of that rum she had consumed, and downed the remaining half, easily. Then she threw the bottle into the fire, not flinching as flames jumped out to meet the strong alcohol.

Reaver looked her over from his seat on the sand. Barely two less layers of clothing and she'd _definitely_ be fit for _his_ tastes, but probably not for wandering through a thick jungle like the one behind them. True, she had, as _he_ had, managed to keep hold of her Red Dragon during the storm, and her skill with it was... _adequate_, he supposed. But the fact was that neither of them had any idea what was on this island. And he wasn't about to let such a beauty wander into death's jaws on her own. Well. At least not before he'd had a chance to see just how talented the Hero _was_.

He gave a low sigh, and then got to his feet, "Hang on there, my dear."

Liliana stopped in her place and turned, frowning at him, "You're not coming _with_ me?"

"Is that so ridiculous a suggestion?"

"Yes." She paused for a moment, studying him. Then she shook her head, and turned, continuing, "Don't get in my way."

Reaver rolled his eyes. Then he frowned. His eyes latched onto something out to sea. He took half a step forwards, and then his heart jumped, "Lilia-"

Her name went unfinished.


	15. Bloodstains

**Bloodstains**

A child ran. A girl. Running as fast as she could, as far as she could. There was screaming. Blood poured. Slashing, fighting, swords, the sounds of metal on metal. Screams. Blood. Everything was burning.

Not her. Anyone. Just not her.

Then forwards. No, _backwards_. There was a man. A man fighting. Fighting with Will and swords and arrows - _arrows_, actual _arrows_, not even a _crossbow_. There was screaming. He fought against a creature, a woman coated in fire. A hooded man watched from the shadows.

Forwards. Backwards. Impossible to tell. The man was with a woman. A Hero. Blade. Two children by their feet. There was screaming.

Then only silence.

* * *

"Lily! Liliana! _Liliana_!"

Jaina shuddered to a halt on the beach, something that was harder than it sounded, and jerked her head around, searching, frantically, "Liliana? _LILY_!"

She knew what she heard. She heard gunfire. Even from halfway around this damned island, she had heard gunfire. She had dropped everything. She no longer cared about that hut, the one with the still burning fire, the state of the previous owners, lying on their bed, covered in blood, fresh kills, none of that mattered, the only priority now was Liliana and that bastard pirate who would soon find out that a fireball to the heart was the _least_ she could do.

"_LILY_! Where the _fuck_ are you?"

She could have sworn this was where she left them. Yes. She _knew_ it was. She recognised the damned cove! Now where...

_There_! A fire - low, but still burning. Liliana, it _had_ to be. And beside the fire...

"_Lily_!" Jaina ran to her, grabbing her daughter by the shoulders, levering her up slightly, "Lily? _Lily_! Liliana!"

The girl didn't reply. Her eyes were closed, her head rolled back. Her body completely limp. She put a shaking hand on her chest, feeling for a heartbeat. Nothing.

No. No no _no_! _No_, it couldn't end like this!

Not again.

The Hero grabbed her jacket from her shoulders, tearing it off and throwing it to the floor, going through it, her hands shaking. Nothing.

She let out a low, ferocious snarl, her heart pounding in her throat, "Why the hell do I never have any goddamned resurrection vials?" she growled, ripping her bag from her back and tearing it open.

"Because you've never needed them."

* * *

Jaina nearly screamed. Instead she shook her head, grabbing her daughter and pulling her upright, "_Lily_?"

The young pirate straightened up, fixing her brown eyes on hers and shaking her head, "Why on earth would a woman who can't die carry resurrection vials? Give yourself _some_ credit, Mama..."

The girl got to her feet, shakily, brushing sand off her clothes and then wincing as a hand felt out her messed hair, "_Must_ they have shot me in the back, I look a _state_."

"But you..." Jaina continued staring at her, "Liliana... you... You died. Your heart stopped beating. You stopped breathing. You died."

Liliana stopped. She lowered her hand from her head, slowly, eyes fixed on the sand, "Yes. Yes, I did..." she glanced at her, attempting a smile, "I guess the 'gift' was passed on after _all_, Mama."

"I'm sorry." She meant it. She _really_ meant it.

The girl paused for a moment. "Yeah." There was a moment of silence, then she shook her head again, "No matter. We'll deal with little revelation later. For now let's get back to the present. Where is Reaver?"

Fire burnt through her heart at his name, hotter than it had ever done before. "I should never have left you with that scum," she growled, forcibly keeping her anger at bay, "I knew what he would do."

"What he would do?" Liliana repeated, frowning slightly, "What do you mean? Where _is_ he?"

"Where d'you think? Scarpered - most probably in a stolen ship. He could be _miles_ away by now."

"Why on earth would he do _that_?"

Jaina shook her head at her daughter, sceptically, "He just _shot_ you. For all intents and purposes, he just _killed_ you."

"What?" her daughter looked at her for a moment, confused. Then she shook her head, "No, this... this wasn't _Reaver_."

It was her turn to stare. "_What_? But... you were shot in the _back_, how would you know?"

"He wouldn't do that."

She gave a sharp, bitter laugh, "What the hell are you _talking_ about? Of _course_ he would! He's a _pirate_, Liliana, this was what I was trying to tell you about him!"

"It _wasn't Reaver_." She repeated through gritted teeth, "I _know_ it."

"_How_."

She sighed, shaking her head, "Listen. Reaver would have me turn and face him before shooting me in the chest so as to not _mar my pretty little face_. He would _not_ shoot me in the _back_ like some _coward_, that's just not how he works!"

"And how would you _know_ how he works, you barely _know_ him." She was aware of the anger in her words, the ferocious anger building in her voice. She tried to stem it: "Liliana. This is the man who shot me in the collarbone to make sure I couldn't run. This is the man who drugged me, and sold me to Lucien. You have no idea what he is truly like."

Lily sighed, testily, "Fine. Then if you won't believe my _thoughts_, then maybe you would prefer solid _facts_."

There was a beat. "Such _as_...?"

Liliana got to her feet. She turned, moving back towards the fire. "I heard two shots. I _swear_ I heard two shots. And... _I've_ only got one _wound_." She crouched down, brushing her fingers over a small stain on the sand. A bloodstain. Jaina moved over, crouching down next to her. The younger Hero shot a look at her, "So what was the _other_ one for..."

"You're as clever as he said you were."

* * *

Jaina was on her feet and turned in a second, hand halfway to her empty holster, but something hit her hard in the chest, throwing her backwards onto the sand. Before she knew it she was on her back, the wind knocked out of her, and something heavy forcing her down.

"Steady her."

Hands grabbed her wrists, forcing them back into the floor either side of her head, pushing the palms down into the ground.

She managed to jerk her head around, seeing the man on top of her and throwing out a wall of Will, throwing the guy off. Another took his place, and another, forcing her down, and she quickly threw out her hands, heat burning from them already.

"Sparrow."

The name cut her in her place. She hesitated, stopped struggling. Her eyes flickered from the masked men on top of her to the space she knew the voice had come from.

Sparrow. Not Jaina. Not Hero. Not Blade. _Sparrow_.

Her mind was whirring in her head. People who knew her as Sparrow: Theresa, Rose, the kids back in Bowerstone, Sam and Max, that damned pirate... the voice sounded like none of them.

"Liliana?" she asked, cautiously.

"I'm fine." Came her daughter's voice, steady and unmoved, as always.

Part of her panic faded. But not by much.

"She will not be harmed, for now. But I warn you, Sparrow, should you try to fight, the punishment will be hers, is that understood?"

"What d'you mean, _for now_."

"I mean for the meantime," the man repeated, mildly, "For the time being. For the current moment. For now."

There were footsteps on the sand. She could hear them, moving closer towards her. She gave an experimental little tug of her hands, seeing if she had softened them up any, but they were having none of it, and the grips on her hands turned to vices.

"Who are you." She managed, trying to keep her heart and her breathing in line, "What do you want from me. _Tell_ me!"

"All good things to those who wait."

"_Bullshit_! _Show_ yourself!"

He sighed, "Very well."

There was movement by her head. She reflexively jerked round to the sound, the men's holds keeping her firmly in her place. Black leather boots, close to her cheek. Her heart started throbbing painfully in her chest, the sight bringing up an old, long-buried memory.

"_**Well**__?"  
_"_Fuck you."  
_"_You're gunna regret saying that, 273. __**Trust**__ me."_

A shiver went through her, one she didn't try to suppress or ignore. She let herself feel her fear, forcing herself to confront it. She could deal with an elevated heart rate right now, so long as she had the reflexes to go with it. She needed that.

The man moved, stepping across the sand towards her feet. She strained her neck, trying to get a good look at him. Finally, he was thrown into view.

* * *

Jaina frowned. The man was tall, well-built, with short brown hair and violet eyes. He was white, perfectly normal-looking. She didn't recognise him.

"Who are you."

He shook his head, "We'll have time for that later."

She cocked an eyebrow, "_I'm_ in no hurry." She said, pointedly, burying her fear.

He gave a sliver of a smile, "Of course." Then he shook his head again, moving further away from her, "But, for now, I have some questions, if I may."

"I think you'll find..." Jaina heard Liliana say, softly, "that you may _not_."

The gunshots cracked through the air like thunder, quick and strong. Seven times the trigger was pulled, before a second was left for the smoke to clear.

The man stood still, watching Liliana with a kind of cautioning apathy. Liliana just stood still, staring.

Jaina's eyes managed to catch on to what she was staring at.

The seven bullets had been fired from Lily's gun, leaving the cylinder, leaving the barrel, flying through the muzzle... but not hitting the target. Instead, they floated in the air in front of him, as if held by some invisible force, all seven, still revolving from the force of the shot.

Jaina looked at the scene in front of her, shaking her head in horrified disbelief. "Will." She whispered, eyes wide.

Liliana shook her head, slowly, "Impossible."

The man smiled, "Not quite."

"But I thought..." she glanced at her mother, the Heroic 'expert'. Blade could only shake her head in reply. Yes. To use Will you had to be a Hero. Theoretically. Fairfax had managed to implant Will abilities on living souls, but that was only a glimmer of the true power. And this... to stop bullets in their place, using impeccable timing... that was something she had never seen before.

_Manipulating time_, she thought, shakily, _It __**must**__ be. But that would mean..._

"You're Hero?" she managed, staring at him.

"Not quite." He merely repeated, cryptically.

"Then what are you." Liliana asked, a little sharply. Jaina could tell that the man's deft diversion of her attempt was getting under her skin.

"I told you. We've plenty of time for that later. For now, however, I must ask that you relinquish control of your weapons... of _all_ of your weapons."

There was a click as the legendary pistol was cocked once again, "I suggest you stay back, dear sir."

"_Liliana_." Jaina said, quickly, warningly. She was hardly in the position to help her if she needed it. Panic seized her heart again, and she fought to control it. They had been in positions like this before, where both had been threatened, where she would always allow her to make her own decisions. But those were bandits and highwayman and beasts. These men were something else.

"Listen to your mother, Liliana. She cares for you. And I've already proven that your attacks have no effect on me, no?"

"Bullets, perhaps." There was a shine of metal as Liliana obviously drew one of her many daggers, "But let's not give up hope quite yet, shall we?"

The man sighed. "Liliana, I would appreciate it if you thought about this. I _was_ rather hoping to have a civil conversation."

"You denied the conversation civility with the nature of your first introduction, did you not?"

"That introduction was necessary."

"As is this."

There was another sigh, "Very well. Then you leave me no choice."

* * *

Jaina shook her head, struggling with the grips on her, fighting to see what was happening, "Lily!"

The tenacious girl paid no attention, moving swiftly towards him. Then she stopped. She frowned, and leant over slightly, her breath coming short. She put a hand up to her chest. Then she let out something close to a yelp, and doubled-over, her dagger making a soft thump as it fell unheeded to the ground.

"Lily? _Lily_!"

The girl was panting, coughing up her breaths, as if someone was choking her.

But there was no-one there.

"_Liliana_!" Jaina fought ferociously, and had just about managed to get enough room with her hands to conjure up a trademark spell when a foot landed hard on her wrist.

Pain split through her and she bit it back with a growl.

"Be careful, Sparrow. This sort of Will takes a lot of concentration. I wouldn't want to slip."

The pressure on Lily's throat apparently increased. She fell to her knees, her hand flying to her neck, coughing and choking, doubled over, her body heaving with hacked breaths.

Jaina stayed still, her own breathing hectic, heart pounding in her chest, wary of the Will-user's barely-veiled threat. He was right. This sort of Will must take a lot of concentration. Jaina had only seen something with such power once before. The Shadow Court.

But these weren't tall, skeletal ghosts. These were humans. Men.

She fought for a moment again, despite the harsh pressure on her wrist, "You let her go or I'll kill you where you stand!"

"This is merely a precaution, Hero. We have no desire to cause harm to your little daughter, I assure you."

"Assure all you like, _let her go_!" she managed to shift the man on top of her enough to free her left hand, and yanked herself over, grabbing at the foot pinning her down, trying to trip him.

The effort was reward by a harsh slap from the grunt, forcing her back to the floor, the pressure of her wrist increasing to the point where it was almost breaking the bone.

She let out a gasp of pain, her head smashing reflexively back onto the sand. Lily was still choking, she could still hear her ragged pants of breath, audible, short, sharp, and shallow.

"Mama." The girl managed, her voice cracking with the strain on her windpipe.

The violet-eyes sorcerer turned to her and clenched his hand down into a fist. Immediately, any little availability of oxygen Liliana once had was immediately extinguished. She was on all fours on the ground, her body starting to shudder with lack of oxygen, face deadly white, her lips taking on a slight tint of blue.

Jaina struggled again, to hell with them, "Let her go. Let her _go_!" she paused, and then looked up at the man, pure panic seizing her, "Please. _Please_. Let her go."

The man looked at her, almost curious, "Interesting. Begging for her life, Sparrow? Surely you know by now that is futile, along with unnecessary."

Liliana's eyes fluttered closed. Her hand slid off her throat. Her body sank down to the sand.

Jaina's heart stopped. "No! _LILIANA_!"

The man nodded, satisfied, releasing his hold on her and turning round. He looked at her, thoughtfully, "And now for you."

Jaina's eyes were fixed on her daughter. She didn't see him draw his weapon, and didn't feel the bullet as it so easily splintered through her collarbone and tore open her ribcage. For her, there was only darkness.


	16. Experimentation

**Experimentation**

"Quiet. Don't make a sound."

Jaina bolted upright with a harsh, pained gasp. She grabbed a firm hold of the man in front of her, yanking him towards her by his collar, "Who are you," she managed, her voice hoarse and low with her torn-apart throat, "No, where am I. No. Check that. Where the fuck is my daughter."

"I can't answer any of those questions, Jaina."

"How do you know my name."

"You've got to keep quiet," the man repeated, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing slightly, "If they don't know you're awake, they'll leave you for a while."

Jaina paused. She looked around. She was in a small, dark room, lit only by a small candle at the other side. The floor was cold stone - paving stones, by the feel - and, though she could feel dried blood between her fingers, there was very little actual pain.

She straightened up a little, feeling her shoulder brush against a wall and instantly turning her back to it, forcing herself further upright. Her eyes returned to the man in front of her again. It was so dark she couldn't quite make out his face. He was kneeling down beside her, but she guessed he was quite short, probably a little shorter than her, and cleanly shaven.

Jaina shook her head, slowly, "Who are you."

The man gave a low, gruff laugh, "You don't recognise me then, princess? It's been a long twenty years."

She frowned, "_Princess_?" she studied the silhouette in front of her for a moment. There was only one person alive she let call her that name. "_Norman_?

Norman gave a wry smirk, "Long time no see."

"What are you _doing_ here?"

He shrugged, "Not a clue. Last I know I was at Bloodstone Mansion. I woke up here."

"What? But why..." she looked around her again, and then struggled to her feet. She approached the one door in or out - a barred, metal cell. She brushed a hand over it for a moment, feeling the tingling in her fingers which proved her suspicions right, "Damn."

"I'm assuming you can't do that thing you Heroes do? Will?"

She shook her head, backing away a little, "Of course I can't. He knew we were coming here, he'll have put up some sort of suppression field."

"I thought that was incredibly rare."

"Not as much as you may think." She replied, shaking her head, "Lucien built a successful Will enclosure, for the Spire. They're really not all that hard to create. What's rare is finding someone who knows _how_." She brushed her fingertips over the metal again. The bars were coursing with Will, she'd never felt anything like it. She backed off, rubbing her hands together, absentmindedly, "These things are _really_ hard to break. The only person I know who's managed to do it is _Garth_, and he was one of the _Three_."

"How long did it take him?"

Jaina paused for a moment. Then she looked at him. "Over ten years. And he was a _far_ better Will-user than me."

"Ten years." He repeated, mildly. He paused, and then shook his head, "Bit of a stretch..."

She shook her head, impatiently, "Yeah, I'm thinking, Norman." She got to her feet, pacing a little, dragging her teeth subconsciously across her bottom lip. She turned back to Norman, abruptly, "This man who captured us, you've never seen him before?"

He shook his head, "No."

"Have you heard anything here? Anything that could help?"

"No."

She gave a low, frustrated sigh, "Okay. Right. Let me think..." she forced the information through her head again. For some reason it was taking a lot of effort to think clearly. Perhaps the suppression field wasn't the _only_ trick this place had going for it...

She closed her eyes, breathing in and out, slowly. She let herself calm. She had to centre herself. All that mattered was here and now.

Here and now. The man on the beach. The Will power. A Hero? Perhaps. He was the one that had taken them here, who had killed them... and then taken them here. So, obviously, he knew of their... _gift_. And yet he killed them both on that island. Why? Was he testing it? Did he think it was just rumour? Was he _studying_ them?

Jaina gave a testy sigh, and resumed her pacing again. Norman had stayed completely silent through her ferocious mental dialogue, but now her eyes fell on him. She paused for a moment, frowning. Then she moved towards him, "Why are you here?"

He cocked an eyebrow, "Sorry?"

"Why are _you_ here. You're, what, late forties? Early fifties? You're not a fighter. You're not a sorcerer, not a Will-user, not a Hero. Why are you here."

He shrugged, casually, "No idea. Where you headed?"

"Well, they've gotta have a purpose for having you here, right?" she said, reasonably, "So what is it. Me and Liliana - that I understand. I'm not _really_ sure _why_ we're here, but it's sure as hell happened to me before. I'm a Hero, the 'Hero of Albion', I'm quite the target. And she's my daughter. That makes sense. But... why _you_..."

The man didn't reply, just looked at her. She bit her lip again, and then shook her head, "What did you do for Reaver? While you were at the Mansion, what were your... _duties_?"

Norman shrugged again, "Whatever he wanted, princess. Though, I suppose, mainly I was his link to the rest of Albion. I talked to the pirates, to the captains, found out what was going on on the mainland, and reported back."

"You were his... _scout_."

He smirked at the comparison, "S'pose so. I did _research_." His smile deepened, "Didn't really have all that much to do until someone like _you_ arrived."

"How so?" she asked, frowning.

He shook his head, settling back against the wall, "I suppose what I _really_ did was find out uses. Be it resources, ships, treasure... women... men..." he caught her eyes and gave a small, lopsided smile, "_Heroes_..."

"You found out uses." She repeated, slowly.

"Yeah."

She paused for a moment. "I think I'm gunna regret asking this... but how d'you mean."

"Well. Let's use you as an example, shall we? Reaver asked me to find out as much about you as possible, but that wasn't really what he wanted. What he _wanted_ was to know what you could be _used_ for. Your _uses_. He found out a quite a few on his own, of course, but he could never have known how valuable you really were until I found out that you'd escaped from Fairfax's cage."

Anger flared in her quick and strong, "_You_ told him that?"

He looked at her, mildly, apparently completely unaffected by her anger, "Yes. I did. Reaver decided on my information that you were worth far more to him alive than you were dead, and I was one of the envoys that delivered the message."

She looked at him for a long time. "_You_ were the reason I had to fight through that place. You had to make it so goddamned difficult. If you had done a little bit _more_ research then you would have found out that I wasn't the only one Lucien wanted. And all those men wouldn't have to have died."

He shrugged, "It seems to _me_ that you would have killed those men _any_way. After all, they were allied with Lucien, right?"

She took an angry step towards him, "Don't you _dare_ judge them, don't you _dare_! They were controlled by their collars!" she paused for a moment, then looked down at the floor, "They couldn't stop themselves." There was a long silence as her anger built again, and then she shook her head, letting out a disgusted snarl, "You're lucky I don't snap your neck right now."

"Why _don't_ you."

She shook her head again, scathingly, "Let's just say I'm still figuring out your _uses_. Was it your idea for Reaver to use me for the Shadow Court?"

Another nonchalant shrug, "Not directly. Though I suppose my research may have... _encouraged_ the thought a little."

"How."

"I just found out that you are a lot tougher than you look. And that your claim of having come through Wraithmarsh was actually true. You were the perfect candidate. He made the decision on his own, but he did leave it as a last resort."

She rolled her eyes, "How reassuring..."

He just shrugged again, and Jaina turned from him, frustrated. Bickering with another of Reaver's 'envoys' would only waste time. She had to figure out what she was going to do.

Then she paused. A frown fleeted over her face. Norman started talking again, and she held out a hand, stopping him, "Quiet. Can you hear that?" she waited, and then nodded, quickly moving away from the door, "Footsteps. Someone's coming."

Norman nodded, slowly, "It's them. They heard us. They're coming back for another go."

She glanced at him, quickly, "What d'you mean 'another go'?"

"They've done this before. Don't you remember?"

She turned her eyes back to the gate, back to where the noise was coming from, heavy, clanking footsteps, and speaking, talking. "No."

"It's okay, princess, you _never_ remember."

"What do you mean."

He shook his head, "We've had this conversation before, you know. You're a lot more... _coherent_ this time, though. They gave you more time to recover." His eyes fleeted onto the corridor, and then back to hers, "I told you you needed to be quiet."

She shot him a quick glare before turning her attention back to where it was needed, her heart now pounding in her chest. "What are they going to do with me."

"What they've been doing for the last few hours." She glanced at him, and he gave a small, dry smile, "Trying to kill you."

* * *

"Does she still believe I killed you?"

Liliana gave a low, frustrated sigh, still checking over the bars, "I assume not. She's far from unintelligent. She'll have figured it out by now."

Reaver tilted his head slightly to one side, thoughtfully, "I would never think to call dear Sparrow unintelligent. But she has been known to be a little..."

"A little what?"

"_Single-minded_." He completed, casually, "It is quite obvious we are not on the best of terms. If she wants to believe I was the one pulling the trigger, I have no doubt that she will manage to ignore as many contradictory facts as she can."

She sighed again, "She is a little... _focused_, true. But, to be fair, it doesn't really matter what Mama thinks. We're stuck here, and unless she can bring up the Will needed to get rid of this power shortage of ours, I doubt that fact is going to change any time soon." She gave the bars one more experimental yank, and then shook her head, turning away from them, "That's not going to give. I've never seen material _like_ it." She settled back down on the floor, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes, "We'll have to wait."

Reaver cocked an eyebrow, amused, "Wait for _what_? For them to get bored experimenting on you? Or for your luck to finally come to an end?"

She opened her chocolate-coloured eyes, fixing them on him for a moment. Then she shook her head, "It's held so far. I tend to find it's better to be optimistic."

"Hmm, of course... always the pirate..."

She raised her eyebrows, "You think pirates are optimists?"

He smirked, "Are they not? Always making the best out of things. Surely that is the pirate way."

"Perhaps."

"How long have you been a pirate then, my dear?"

She glanced at him again. Reaver took a second to ponder what she was thinking. Maybe it was suspicion. Maybe she was just wondering how he could keep his 'conversational attitude' even when they were stuck behind bars.

She gave a small shrug, "I've been on a ship since I was eleven. And then... I _owned_ a ship. Captain Liliana. Captain of The Seraphim."

"Mm. Has a certain ring to it, I must admit."

"It does, does it not?"

"Does the Captain have a last name?"

She glanced at him again, "Do _you_?" She shrugged, casually, leaning her head back and closing her eyes again, "My mother is not married, and she is unaware of her original surname. Not that it particularly matters, of course."

"And your father?"

There was a long pause. Her eyes remained closed, and not a flicker of emotion went over her face. "My father... is a sore subject for her. She married him young, but..." another pause, and this time she frowned a little. Not in pain, more as if... she was trying to remember a complicated memory. "But he was killed. Long ago. By our Lord Lucien Fairfax. His name was -"

"Michael."

Her eyes fluttered open, surprised, "How do you -"

"Darling little Sparrow and I entered into a few... _small_ snippets of conversation." Then he shook his head, "But... for that man to be your father... that is impossible."

"How so?"

"Because her husband was killed before you were born. Along with all family."

She cocked an eyebrow, almost coolly, "And that makes it impossible... _how_?"

It didn't take him long. "She was pregnant when Fairfax killed them! How... _sentimental_... I did wonder on her being able to move on after such a blow..."

This time there was a definite chill in her voice, "A blow? And I'm sure you've never had someone you love die."

He cocked an eyebrow, smirking, "And the beauty shows character... interesting."

"Hmm, and I suppose this is the point where I'm shocked to hear you've never had a friend your entire life..."

At this one he laughed, "Oh, Liliana, how _cold_! You read me _so_ easily."

She paused for a moment. Then she looked away. "I wouldn't know what to do if Mama died. Despite her... inclinations."

He frowned, "Inclinations?"

A silence. She was thinking hard. "It's been twenty years since you two last spoke. Did you see anything different about her?"

He nodded, thoughtfully, "It _has_ been twenty years. And believe me, my dear, if even a _fraction_ of those years showed on her face, I would have realised it. There was none."

She gave a small smile, leaving her eyes shut and her face turned from him, "How very artificial. Come on, pirate. Make it real."

He paused for a moment, looking at her. Her ability at avoiding simple questions was quite an art... but not one he wished to see more of. As he had said before, he didn't have the patience to play. But maybe he could indulge her questions, if they lead to actual answers on _her_ part. "She was... colder. Closed down. She was almost... almost as if she were..."

"I believe the word you are looking for... is _broken_." She turned her head to the side again, her voice soft and thoughtful, "Something snapped in her after Michael died. After he was killed."

"Something snapped in her long before that, I can assure you..." he muttered, rolling his eyes.

"And... did you notice the marks?"

"Marks?"

She nodded, "Oh yes. I mean, I assume she wasn't wearing her usual attire when she spoke to you, after the shipwreck. She wasn't when she spoke to me."

"Usual attire?" he repeated, cocking an eyebrow.

"The necktie? The red scarf, around her neck?" she gave a wry smile, eyes closed, "Surely you remember it."

He paused for a moment, thinking about it. Yes. Yes, he did remember... "She had..." he paused, delicately, "_Scars_. Where... where there were none before."

Lily paused, frowning almost curiously, "Squeamish, Reaver? Wouldn't have thought it of a pirate like you."

"Squeamish? No. _Mildly curious_, if anything. Where did she get them from?"

"You know where she got them from." She looked up at him again, this time keeping his eyes, "You know perfectly well. The scars on her wrists, her arms? Burned? Cauterised? They're from her Daichi. The long lines across her neck? Rope burn. Scars scattered across the sides of her head, dotted around her temples? Bullet marks."

He looked at her for a second. "She's been trying to kill herself."

"Yes. For many years now. Ever since I was old enough to understand. She said she would never try before I would understand."

"_Understand_?" he repeated, sceptically.

She smiled, softly, "Yes. Understand. And I do understand now. Mostly." She licked her lips, subconsciously, and then shook her head, "She once longed for death. With every breath, she wished it were her last. But time has blunted the pain. The impact of what she did, what she chose. And now... now I think it is more habit. A hobby, if you will."

"Finding ways to kill yourself is a _hobby_?"

She gave a small smile, "We are a bit of dysfunctional family, if you hadn't noticed."

He shook his head, "I don't understand."

She smiled again. "Now that's unusual. I'm willing to bet you don't say those words very often, if at _all_." He just looked at her, and she sighed, "Of course you don't understand. You've been fighting death all of your life. To want death like she does - even to just _accept_ it like _others_ do - is incomprehensible to you. You still remember a time when you wanted nothing more than to live. Life is ingrained in you now."

"Ingrained?"

She looked at him, thinking for a moment. "All these people you have sacrificed. Is it always one every twenty years? Who were you considering sacrificing this time - _me_?" then she shook her head, changing her mind, "No no no, that's not right. If I were in your position I'd be thinking about manipulating my mother again, using me as a bargaining chip, sending her back to spare my life." She waited a second, and then shrugged, "If that's even possible, of course."

Reaver cocked an eyebrow. This was something quite interesting... her immortality... He knew full well that their friendly hosts weren't the _only_ ones interested in this particular topic... "So... you truly _are_... invulnerable?"

She shrugged again, "Well. _Mama_ can't die. No matter how hard she tries - and she has tried almost everything, believe me. And... there was always a possibility it was passed on to me by her blood."

"But you hadn't had a chance to test it."

"Until now, no." She gave a small, rather satisfied smile, "I am rather hard to kill. There have before been a few times that I _may_ have died - like in the shipwreck, for instance - but there was no-one there to confirm or deny it either way. So I do not truly know."

"And why didn't you follow dear _Sparrow's_ line of enquiry."

She laughed, "Well, what if it worked? I hardly wish my demise to be put down to _suicide_, _especially_ not suicide to test whether I was _immortal_. Too big a hit on my pride, I'm afraid. So... I just had to wait until it could be proven." She paused for a moment, and her smile turned almost dry, "One way or the other."

Reaver considered the girl for a second. "You're far too young to be talking this way."

She laughed, hollowly, "I am older than I look, _dear sir_. As are you. The difference is _I_ am also older than my _years_. Whereas you are stuck in the balance. Only takes a tip of the scales, Reaver, and all you have will be lost. Do try and remember that."

He paused, looking at her for a second, and then gave a short laugh, "And you're far too _pretty_ to be talking _that_ way." His voice was a purr. Just like that, he was back to his old self.

Lily raised an eyebrow. And then shook her head, giving a small laugh, as if at a private joke, looking down at the floor, "Indeed." He frowned, but, before he had time to question her, she had continued: "Mama used to believe it was about the Light. Being the 'Chosen One' gave her... certain benefits. She believed this to be one of them... and acted accordingly."

"_The desire for the kill... Not something I would have normally associated with __**you**__, dear Sparrow... The selfless, God fearing __**Hero**__..."  
_"_I fear no God. Not any more."_

"How so?" he asked, casually.

"Well. For quite some time now, she has been trying to... _displease_ Avo. Walk away from the Light. Force Avo to abandon her, so she can age, so she can die. But... her heart is... complex. She cannot stay in the dark for long."

"Her ridiculous sense of morality."

"Exactly. As I have said, my mother and I differ in that effect."

He raised an eyebrow again, "Because of your being a _pirate_?"

She shrugged, "I suppose. There have always been differences. If someone starts a fight with me I expect them to see it through to the finish. It's only polite. If someone runs from me, I shoot them. No second chances. I have little time for cowards." Then she thought for a second, "But if they _surrender_... that's a different story. It takes courage to surrender yourself to whatever your opponent desires. I usually let them go."

"Usually?"

She smiled, pleasantly, "Depends how much they've irritated me."

"Mmm. And... _Fairfax_...?"

The smile faded. She looked at him for a long time. "You want my opinion?"

He smiled, dangerously, "Very much so."

She looked at him. It didn't seem as though she were thinking out her answer. More... about how much she should tell him. Then she shook her head, "I would have killed him. She was foolish to let him live even a second past that shield fading."

He smirked, "So sure. So quick to judge, Liliana?"

His words had been very deliberate, aiming to wound. But she surprised him by giving a small, lopsided smile, "Yes." Then she ran her teeth over her bottom lip, eyes tracing the paving beneath them again, "Fairfax murdered... three young children. Four if you count Mama herself. Acts like that don't lead to peace. All those people at the Spire that perished... he was a madman. And needed to be put down."

"So you approve." He prompted, nodding.

"Approve?"

"Of my... intervention."

"Yes. I would never admit it, of course, but... yes. He had to die." Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor, and Reaver slightly entertained the thought that he had managed to effect her. "Some people just... have to die."

There was silence for a moment. Then Reaver glanced up at the door, frowning. His mind took a second to label the sound as footsteps, and he smiled again, "And... speaking of dying..."

* * *

Liliana didn't need him to specify. Her eyes moved quickly up to the door, and she shook her head, slowly, giving a low sigh. Not again.

She got to her feet, slowly, stretching out her shoulders a little, "Oh, and here we go once more..."

"You'd have thought they'd have realised by now."

"Yes, well..." she kept her eyes on the bars, her heart fluttering a little, "People never usually are that quick on the uptake..."

Reaver looked at her, a small, almost _surprised_ smirk playing around his lips, "Is that a spark of nerves I hear there?"

She glanced at him, "Nerves? Not particularly. But dying isn't the most... _pleasant_ experience I've ever gone through..."

The chains clanked loudly as the door was unlocked, and their jailor strode through the door, easily. He looked at her for a second, and she met his gaze without a flinch. Then he shook his head, "Alright, let's get this over with. Secure her."

Men moved quickly into the room, one fastening a firm hold on her arm, and then another. The combined force of both of them was hardly too much for her to fight, she knew, but she still didn't move.

Their host seemed to find this almost amusing. "She's a brave one, as always." He surveyed her for a second, and then nodded at the ones holding her. "You know the drill. Hands, behind her head."

The two forced her to her knees and wrestled her hands back onto her head. She allowed the touch, though with a slight degree of disdain, throwing their hands off her as soon as she was in the 'required position'.

Liliana gritted her teeth, trying to avoid remembering the feel of the pistol to her head, feeling her body tense, preparing itself for pain, "You think your men will prove something? You think you will change Albion? You will fail, as all others did before you. Trust me, _sir_. Nothing... _ever_ changes."

He looked down at her, frowning slightly. Then he aimed his pistol. She looked down the barrel, her breathing now completely unmanageable. She didn't flinch when he cocked the gun. She didn't close her eyes. She stayed perfectly still, her lungs painful and sharp, her heart thrumming in her chest, her hands, the side of her head, the back of her neck, and waited for the shot.

This was going to hurt.


	17. The Gift

It's been a while, again... but I hope the long-awaited answers in this chapter make up for it :)

* * *

**The Gift**

"Lily?"

Her name. She knew it was her name. But it had no context.

"_Liliana_. Come on, now."

Did she just move there? Perhaps. It was hard to tell.

"_Liliana_. Get your ass outta bed."

She gave a low groan, "Five more minutes?"

There was a chuckle, "Now _there's_ a switch."

"Is it still snowing?"

"Lily, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

Lily finally managed to open her eyes. They were met immediately by the fiery red counterparts that could only belong to one person.

"Mama."

"Mornin', sweetheart."

She gave another groan, leaning back a little as her body objected firmly to movement, "You haven't got any whiskey on you, perchance?"

"Sorry, darling. All out."

"Damn." She straightened up again, this time managing to get into a sitting position, "Then I'll just have to get over it on my own."

Jaina smiled at her. Then the smile faded, and her eyes flickered over her, becoming serious, "Are you alright."

Liliana shook her head, "Fine. A little... _strained_... but I..." she hesitated, remembering the feeling, and then just shook her head again, "I am not as used to feeling my heart stop as you are."

"How many times has he tested on you."

"I lose track. Perhaps soon I will get used to it. The first time was a _lot_ more... _unsettling_."

Mama looked at her for a long time. "Do you know what this means, Lily."

She gave a low sigh, "No. But I doubt very much that _you_ completely understand the situation, either."

There was silence for a moment. "No," she replied, finally, "No, I guess I don't."

Lily took a long, deep breath. Then she shook her head, "This is supposed to be the very thing a pirate strives for. But... being immortal? Living forever?" she frowned a little, looking down at the floor, "Forever is a very long time."

"I... I didn't _mean_ for this to happen."

Lily glanced at her, "Mm? Oh, of course you didn't. This isn't your fault. And I will be fine, I promise you." Then she shook her head, straightening her back against the wall, "For now... should we not be discussing our... _current_ predicaments?"

"Predica_ments_?" she repeated, noticing the plural.

Lily nodded, "Yes." She glanced down at herself, distastefully, "_One_ of which is what on earth am I _wearing_."

Jaina cocked an eyebrow, and then shook her head, looking her over, "Guard's uniform, looks like. You mean you weren't wearing it before?"

"Before I was in my leggings and my boots, remember?"

"Ah yes. How could I forget..."

Lily rolled her eyes. Then she turned back to the open shirt now accompanying her black trousers. It was crisp and white, with long sleeves that passed her hands. Not at all her size, but... a decent enough gesture, she supposed. She tried buttoning it, but the guard it had belonged to was evidentially a man, as it was too broad across the shoulders and too tight across the chest. She managed to get the thing done up to just below her bra, and then shook her head, leaving it as it was. The revealing nature didn't bother her. After all, she had before worn a lot _more_ provocative outfits.

Her mother glanced over her with a practiced raised eyebrow, and shook her head, wearily, but didn't comment.

She rolled the sleeves up to above her elbows, and then nodded, satisfied, "Now. Perhaps you could shine a little light onto our situation...?"

Jaina gave a heavy sigh. She paused for a moment, and then shook her head, "No idea. You?"

She shook her head, "I am hardly the most knowledgeable in situations like this, Mama. _You_ are the Heroic expert here. I assume the shield hasn't escaped your attention?"

"The Will bubble? No."

"And it most _definitely_ did not escape your attention that the man who captured us was a Will user."

"No."

"And you will, of course, know by now that Reaver was not the one who pulled that trigger."

There was a pause this time. "Yes." She replied, eventually, reluctantly.

Liliana nodded, acknowledging how difficult it had been for her to say that, "Good. Now, if we could just -"

* * *

There was a clank as the door down the hall opened. Liliana immediately shot to her feet, eyes locked on the barred cell door. Jaina's eyes locked onto her turned back, stiffened beneath the shirt, her muscles taut, like an animal sensing a predator. A sinking feeling went through her stomach, watching that reaction, and she quickly stood, moving over to her side.

There was speaking, muffled, mumbling, coming from the other side of the door. Jaina placed a hand on her daughter's arm, trying to urge her back behind her. Liliana didn't move. She was either refusing point blank or she was frozen in her place. Either way, this sort of response was unusual for her. Lily was a pirate, she let _nothing_ faze her.

Just what had they done to her in that prison cell.

Anger surged through her, and this time she didn't take her stillness for an answer, moving in front of her and pushing her back a little, firmly.

Liliana seemed to finally come out enough to realise what she was doing, and shook her head, stepping up to her side, ignoring the glare, ignoring the increase of pressure on her wrist. She gave her a silent look. And Jaina let go.

The door smashed open.

* * *

Liliana took in a long breath between her teeth, knowing who it was before she saw him, knowing who it was going to be, what he was going to do, that she was going to go through it all all over again.

He stepped through the door, and it _was __**him**_, but... his response was hardly what she had expected. His eyes moved onto the two women, and widened slightly, looking almost surprised, and he turned back almost instantly, grabbing hold of the collar of a guard by the door, "Why are they together."

The young man gave an uneasy shake of the head, "Sorry, sir, I don't -"

"I gave direct orders for these two _not_ to be in the same cell." The man rode over, coldly, "Not even in the same _block_. Does that sound familiar?"

The guard was getting nervous. _Really_ nervous. Liliana watched, guardedly. What was this about?

"I apologise, sir, I -"

"Not good enough."

The dagger was drawn in a second, _less_ than a second, and quickly rammed deep into the young guard's stomach. The boy had barely time to yank in a gasp when the next blade slashed horizontally along his chest, deftly cutting through skin and flesh, and forcing deeper, up into the bottom of the ribcage.

The boy was dead before he hit the floor.

The man with the violet eyes paused for a moment, eyeing the mess on the floor. Then he shook his head, turning back to them, slowly.

"My apologies for that." He said, a little formally, his gaze locked on theirs.

There was silence for a moment. Then Liliana gave a short laugh, "How... vulgar." She replied, raising an eyebrow, her voice perfectly calm. She kept his eyes, smiling a little, and shook her head, "But pointless. If you were trying to distress us with that little display then I suggest you do your homework. The life of a guard means little to me. Even less so when he has been holding me captive."

The sorcerer gave a small smile, "Always the pirate. But I'll deal with you in a moment."

Something hit her hard in the chest, throwing her back, away, into the wall. She gave a little growl of displeasure and pain, struggling with the invisible force pinning her to the dirty stone, and then looked up to see the man approaching Jaina, her too having been hurled backwards.

A hand grabbed the delicate chin, forcing it up to face him, "Why aren't you dead yet."

"No idea." She murmured, obviously holding back a grimace, "_Avo_, that hurt. Do you guys not know the meaning of subtlety?"

"They've been waking us up and shooting us for about an hour now." Lily informed, casually, despite the pain moving through her back, "I think it's starting to wear thin."

"How many times did it take them to figure it out?"

She shrugged, "I'm not certain. I remember waking up _many_ times. About... twenty? More?"

"Well no _wonder_ I feel like death." Her eyes caught the man's and she smiled, grimly, "Figuratively speaking, of course..."

He tightened his grip, blank eyes locked onto hers, "_Why aren't you dead yet_."

"I told you, _dear sir_, I have no idea."

"It seems your density is still as of yet unfulfilled." Lily replied in her almost-pretentious, school-taught purr.

She nodded at the blood-stained shirt, "As is _yours_."

She managed to give only the slightest pause. "Mm. Yes."

"Destiny." The man repeated, watching her, closely, "What does that mean."

She sighed, wearily, "I'm immortal. I don't age, and I don't die. Same with her. We're immortal. I used to think it was _Avo_, but now... now I'm not so sure."

"An old friend said it was because her density was unfulfilled." Liliana added, hand subtly moving down to test the Will's hold, retreating as pain burned through her stomach, "That she had more to do on this world. And so important that even death would not take her yet." Then she paused, and shrugged again, "But, truthfully? You know about as much as we do."

The sorcerer looked at her for a moment, "I don't believe you."

It was Mama's turn to laugh, "You don't? Okay then. Then what about this." She nodded at her, "That girl standing there? She's not my sister. She's my _daughter_. And - how old are you now, honey?"

"Twenty-three."

"Twenty-three. How old would you say I look? About... thirty, maybe? Okay, now add in the fact that before Lily was born I already had a ten-year-old son and an eleven-year-old daughter." She cocked her eyebrows, her red eyes sparkling with grim amusement, "You think I'm thirty? How old was I when I had my first child, _one_?" she shook her head again, "I'm _fifty-four_. Avo won't let me age. And destiny won't let me die."

"Now why don't you tell us just how that is possible." Liliana completed, softly, "Go on. _Amaze_ me with your insight."

He turned to her, cocking his head to one side, "The little girl's still so brave. But it hasn't helped you so far, has it?"

"I'd rather be brave and ineffectual, than a coward who crumples at the first sign of intimidation." She replied, readily, without the slightest hesitation.

Jaina nodded, "Took the words right out of my mouth."

He paused looking at them both in turn, "Hm."

"What." Jaina asked, the slightest hint of an edge to her voice.

He shook his head, giving a small, almost surprised smile, "He was right. He said you were more dangerous together. At first I thought he meant as Heroes, but I'm starting to think he meant as something else."

"Such as...?"

"It's the blood. Not the Heroic blood. The power in the blood that you share goes beyond your Will. The connection."

"She's my daughter," Jaina pointed out, coolly, "You're surprised we have a connection?"

"Seeing as _you're_ the _mother_... _yes_." He smiled, lopsidedly, "You don't make connections _easily_, _do_ you, Sparrow."

"I've told you before not to call me that." This time there was more than an edge to her voice. In two sentences her tone had turned practically glacial.

He nodded, thoughtfully, "Yes, I know. My name's Warde."

"My name's Blade."

Warde smiled, "Interesting name. I'd have loved to meet your parents. Unfortunately I never had the pleasure."

"Me neither. They died a few years after I was born."

"I know."

There was a pause. Liliana could feel her heart pumping uneasily in her chest. No. No, that wasn't possible... Her eyes locked onto her mother's, but she kept her gaze firmly front-and-centre. "If you're going to make some sort of implication, then make it."

He smiled again, "I don't make implications. If I wanted to say I had anything to do with your parents' deaths, _Blade_, I would have said it." Then he shrugged, conceding, "Besides. Who says your parents are dead? _You_ can't die. Perhaps _they_ have the same fate."

She shrugged, "Perhaps they do." This didn't seem to be the response he was after, and she gave a sardonic laugh, "Oh, I'm sorry, was I supposed to be amazed by this epic realisation?"

"Of course you were, Mama, he considers you a fool." Lily replied, smoothly, "There's absolutely no _way_ you could have thought of that on your own."

Mama shook her head, leaning towards him as close as she could get with the Will still squeezing around her chest, "Listen, Warde. You can experiment as much as you like. Do your tests for as long as you like. Put a damned _gun_ against my head for as long as you fucking like. Because no matter how many people put a pistol to my head and pull the trigger, it will never amount to how many times _I've_ put a pistol to my head and pulled the trigger, understand?" she let the silence echo for a while, and then shook her head, "Now. For the last time. I _don't know_... what happened to me. And I _don't __**know**_... what caused it."

There was a long pause. Then Warde shook his head, "We'll see." He said, evenly.

She laughed again, "Yes, we will." Then she looked at him for a moment, still with a lopsided smile, "Now. My turn. You're a group of men, researching immortality... with some _very_ Old Kingdom Will." She paused, the same thing going through her head as was her own, "There's only three people I know with such contact. One would never even _think_ of doing anything with it, and the other is dead. _So_... by process of elimination... it should be the third. But something tells me that isn't right, somehow."

The sorcerer smiled, without amusement, "I was not sent by your _Hero of Skill_, no."

"Mm, but you are familiar with him..."

He shrugged, "Of course I am. He is one of the others to occupy one of our holding cells."

"So you haven't killed him." Jaina nodded, slowly, "Good."

Warde cocked an eyebrow, "Good? It is my understanding that you hated each other."

She didn't reply. Lily caught her gaze, and then cleared her throat slightly, deftly bringing the man's attention to her, "Intensely, I assure you. What do you plan on doing with us? Out of curiosity."

"Study."

She noticed his voice was a lot shorter when talking to her. She allowed the small smile at this revelation, finding it quite novel. "Experiment? You've been doing it all day. What have you found?"

He looked at her for a moment. He truly _didn't_ want to answer her questions. Any possible reason why he would refuse to indulge her whilst being perfectly companionable with her mother eluded her, but she refused to let it faze her: "If you had found the reason for our... _predicament_, then surely you would have already acted upon it. And you would definitely not be _here_. So you are here for _some_ sort of information, correct? Even if you do not believe we have no idea of its origins, surely you are not so naïve as to believe we would crack after just asking politely?"

He stood perfectly still through her questions, eyes locked on her, saying nothing.

Lily sighed, giving a small, playful smile, "What's the matter, dear sir? You may talk around me, you know. I won't bite."

A small smile moved across his lips, lopsided and thoughtful, "Oh, is that right."

She frowned. Something about the way he was looking at her... It was almost as if... he knew something she didn't. "Why." She asked, her voice slightly sharp, "Have you heard differently?"

He laughed, softly. Then he turned to her, fully, leaving Jaina and taking a few steps in her direction, "Interesting how easily you can be thrown off the high horse of yours. Just with a simple sentence... You've always been easy to understand."

"How would you know." She asked, watching him draw closer with a small shot of unease, "How do you know me."

He chuckled again. Then he shook his head, "We've been watching you for many years, Liliana. And what a marvel you've become. Quite the prodigy. Such an example for your ancestors."

"What are you talking about?" he didn't reply, and she shook her head, returning to the point in hand: "So, go on, then. I'll bite. Who's 'we'?"

"We?"

"Yes." He took another step towards her, and she glanced at the shortening distance before quickly moving her eyes back up to his, "Who do you work for?"

Warde was different. Something was different. Something was wrong. His violet eyes were frozen on hers, the slightest, amused smile still lingering on his lips. He wasn't going to answer, that was obvious, but he was still moving towards her, almost as if even _he_ wasn't quite sure of what he was doing.

"Stay away from her."

* * *

Jaina's growled voice, promising pain if he didn't immediately obey, seemed to finally break the spell. Warde glanced back, then nodded, returning back to his cool, emotionless self, "Your pirate friend is immortal. He has truly found a way of living forever - _due_ to his... _contacts_."

"And are you experimenting on him, too?" Jaina asked, giving no chance for Lily to reply. Lily shot her a small glare, barely a narrowing of the eyes, to show her how much this was appreciated.

Warde didn't seem to notice, "In a way, yes."

"But you are more interested in _our_ immortality." Lily completed, slowly, "Why?"

This time he didn't even so much as glance at her. "The pirate is immortal, yes. He cannot age so long as he provides the sacrifices. But _you_..." his hand moved up, abruptly, hovering in the air less than a centimetre away from Mama's cheek. She grimaced, but didn't say a word. Warde looked at her, thoughtfully, "_You_ are _invincible_. You not only cannot age, you cannot _die_."

"Not through lack of trying..." Jaina muttered, darkly.

"And it is _that_ that we are interested in. We want to find out _why_."

"We don't _know_ why." Lily pressed, silkily, "I think that's quite clear. What do you hope to achieve?"

There was a pause. Then Warde removed his hand, taking a step away from her. "What? You can't guess?"

"Obviously not." Jaina replied, coolly, "So why don't you help us out here?"

"No." He had moved away from her totally now, flesh not even brushing. He glanced at Liliana and then back, as if considering something, "You know what... for once... I think I'll leave you two here alone. You've got a lot to think about. See if you can work out what's really going on here." His eyes returned to Jaina's, locking, something almost like hunger flittering though the violet orbs, "You were so close. Perhaps even closer than you expected to be." He turned, walking swiftly towards the door, "Let's see how clever you are."

"Wait."

* * *

Warde turned back, slowly, locking eyes with the young girl. "Yes?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow, expectantly.

Liliana paused. "You didn't say who you're working for."

The other eyebrow rose to join its counterpart, "No, I didn't, did I?" his eyes flickered over her, "You wish to know?"

"Yes." She replied, emotionlessly, keeping his gaze. She paused, and then shook her head, "I will not, however, lower myself to beg. We will find out eventually either way. It is simple curiosity."

That same smirk brushed across his lips again. Then he shook his head, "We are many. Who work under the same banner."

"Whose."

"You are so very inquisitive."

"_Whose_ banner."

He paused. Then shook his head again, nonchalantly, "Our leader. Our boss, our ruler, our director, our..." He smirked again, "_rightful monarch_, as it were."

A small frown wrinkled Lily's brow, "Monarch? You speak in riddles."

His smile turned almost dangerous, "Mmm. I do."

She shook her head, almost impatiently, "Speak straight, or not at all. _Who do you answer to_."

Warde looked at her for a long time. Then he smirked, "The Court of Blades."


	18. Memories and Rituals

**Memories and Rituals**

Warde had left, but Jaina barely noticed. The words were running through her head. The Court of Blades. The Court of Blades. The Blades. No. No, it wasn't possible. It _couldn't_ be possible.

"Mama." Lily said, her voice firm, "_Mama_."

She finally managed to focus her eyes on her.

Liliana's face was completely serious, for one of the very rare times, "Listen to me."

"He's lying."

"And what if he's not. He's given us time, let's use it."

She shook her head, incredulously, "To _what_?"

"_Mama_!" she repeated, sharply, "Get a grip of yourself! You are a _Hero_! You deal with threats like this on a day to day occurrence, you have _got_ to keep a clear head."

"I deal with the Court of Blades on a day to day basis?" she glanced at the look on her face, and managed to pull her together slightly. She sighed, frustrated, running a hand through her already dishevelled hair, shaking her head, "Just what do you suggest."

"That we use this time to get ourselves together." She replied, slowly, "It doesn't matter if he's lying or telling the truth. We need to plan for the worst case scenario. We need to plan for the Court of Blades." He daughter's eyes locked on hers, and a hand caught her arm, "Mama. I need you to keep calm."

She shook her head again, "I'm as calm as I'm gunna get."

"No you're not." She seemed to think for a moment, and then nodded, decisively, "Okay, let's bring the conversation away. Bring you back to us. Tell me about Michael."

That threw her. "What?"

"You've told me so many times it's like a bedtime story. You know it off by heart. Tell me."

Jaina hesitated. The thought of Michael... it was alien here. He wasn't to be brought up in this context, not here. It felt... obscene. Out of place.

But, then again... maybe that was the point.

"What do you want to know?" her voice was remarkably calm, remarkably stable.

Liliana cocked her head, "How did you meet him?"

"He... he saved my life."

_The damned Hobbes, swarming all over her, beating them back one by one by one, but there were too many of them, they were __**every**__where, she couldn't __**move**__. There was one with a ridiculously sized rifle, over to her right, cocking it again. Boy was nowhere to be seen. It wouldn't be long before the beast was able to fire. She had to get the things off her before then, or he would have a clear shot._

"How? Where?"

"Up by the Rookridge Inn. I was... I was on the way to Oakfield. The bridge was out, I... I had to go through the Hobbe cave. I was right the way out, and then a group bloody swarmed me. One was about to take a shot at me, and then -"

_And then he appeared out of nowhere, a man, wielding one hell of a blade, and he had cut down the gun-wielder in a few seconds, and had turned onto the next within another. The Hobbes spun to him, as surprised as she was, and she used their distraction to take out the ones around her, easily, a still-weak fireball only just managing to scorch the Hobbes' thick flesh. She used a heavy boot to floor the last one, coupling it with her longsword forced into its forehead._

_Sparrow paused, battling with her breathing, bent over double with her hands on her knees._

"_Breathe slowly. It helps if you straighten up."_

_She obeyed the voice, along with the helping hand on her back, and stretched a little, grimacing at the pain this brought up in her muscles, "By the Light..."_

"_Exactly what I was thinking." The voice sounded amused. She turned to him, frowning slightly, looking her 'rescuer' over. _

"What did he look like?"

_He was tall, maybe a foot taller than her, and maybe a little older, too. Sandy-brown hair brushed just over his jaw line, his eyes a dark green, blood spattered all over his dark clothing. _

"What did he say? Jaina, what _happened_."

"_Feelin' better?"_

"_Yeah... yeah, I am... I..." she looked at the devastation around her, then looked back to him, "Thanks."_

"_Welcome." He sheathed the large blade into a back holster, and her eyes followed it. She was just about to open her mouth when a series of barks distracted her, and she looked down to see Boy sprinting up the path towards her._

_Sparrow cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, hello there. And just what the hell happened to __**you**__?"_

_The pup whimpered, pathetically, and then dropped what looked like a bloodied, chewed apart jugular vein by her feet. She sighed._

_The stranger glanced at her, "Yours?"_

"_Yes. Yes, he's mine. The useless furry mutt..." she moved over to him, getting down on her knees and taking hold of his blood-mottled muzzle, pointing it towards her, "Now. Listen here. What have I told you? __**You**__ go after __**ranged**__. I can't be dealing with the guns when I'm busy with the swords. Okay? You listening, sweetheart?"_

_Boy gave a happy bark, and she sighed again, getting to her feet, "Good boy."_

"_Does he talk back?"_

_She turned to find the stranger looking at her, cocking an eyebrow, a small smile playing over his lips. She paused for a second, and then shook her head, "Not all the time. And his pronunciation could do with a bit of work, but that's dogs for you." She studied him for a moment, and then held out a hand, "I'm Sparrow."_

"_Michael." He accepted the hand, despite the blood dripping over them both. When Sparrow withdrew she wiped her hand off on her jacket, seeing him do the same, "Is that your real name?"_

"_It's as real as anything else." She replied, promptly, her standard response._

_He smiled, lopsidedly, "Ah. A philosopher." His green eyes moved over her, quickly, a frown on his face, "You're young, aren't you."_

_She glanced at him, paying more attention to the blade she was pushing back into its holster, "Yeah. Why."_

"_Just wondering what you're doing here."_

"_Actually... I'm training."_

"_Training? You make it sound like you're going to war."_

_She paused for a second, and then shook her head, "Maybe I am."_

"_Maybe you are. Why are you so wet, you're __**soaking**__."_

"_Oh. Shortcut. I'm heading to Oakfield."_

"_And you had to swim to get here?"_

"_The bridge was out. How did __**you**__ get here."_

_He shrugged, casually, "I was here before the idiots blew it up. I know Oakfield, I'm heading that way myself. Is it okay to join you?"_

"_Why by the Light would you want to do __**that**__? It's quite obvious I'm good at attracting trouble."_

_Michael gave a small, satisfied smile, "Yeah. Well. Maybe I'm good at that too."_

"There." Liliana said, quietly, "You remember it, don't you. You can feel it. You know him. Keep him in your head."

She tried. Their walk to Oakfield, joking, laughing, discussing tactics and weaponry and possible paths to take. When she had told him she was a Hero, oh Avo, how he'd laughed, but not mockingly. It was clear he didn't believe her, even when she shot a bolt of lightning at a passing beetle, crisping it to cinders. He was _impressed_, sure, even if he didn't want to admit it... but he had still replied with the ludicrous 'hell, you could've picked that up from anywhere'.

That mocking touch to him never had faded, no matter what she did to try and convince him she was a fighter worth notice. She knew now why she worked so hard to prove herself to this stranger, but back then all she had felt was stubborn.

It had taken her so long to figure out what she really felt.

Jaina looked up at her daughter. The girl was sitting there, perfectly neutrally, watching her. "Mama...?" she asked, finally.

"Why him." She replied, quietly, "Why Michael."

"Well. I must admit... I do have a slightly ulterior motive."

There was a short pause. "What."

Liliana hesitated. Then she got back to her feet, moving over the door, "When you die... you have dreams, don't you. Sort of like... memories."

"Yes. Sometimes."

"You saw Rose."

Another pause. "Yes."

"Well... when I was shot... and then, you know... shot again... and again... I think..." she turned back to her, expression completely unreadable, "I think I saw father. I think I saw Michael."

Jaina frowned, and shook her head, "That's not possible. You never knew him."

"I know. But I saw him. At least... I _think_ I saw him."

"But it works off memory." She persisted, shaking her head again, "You've never seen him before."

"Well," she said, softly, "Maybe mine aren't memories. Maybe mine are something else."

Jaina looked at her for a very long time. "You're saying you had a... _vision_?"

"I... I think so." Then she nodded, firmly, "Yes. _Lots_ of visions."

Jaina stared at her.

_Visions_?

She had heard of such things, of course. Prophets. Soothsayers. Theresa herself was evidence that they did in fact exist, and having grown up with gypsies had allowed her a certain amount of open-mindedness when it came to superstitions and the occult, but... for her Lily to have this gift... Where had it _come_ from?

"Has anything like this ever happened to you before?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"I..." she sighed, and shrugged, "Sometimes. I've had... dreams. But... I never thought anything of them." She shook her head, "I thought they were coincidences."

Jaina thought hard. "You said... when you woke up, that last time... you asked if it was still snowing." She said, slowly.

Lily glanced at her, "Did I?"

"Yes. Why would you ask that?"

"I... I don't know. There _was_ snow. I think. Yes. A blizzard. So cold..." she paused for a moment, deep in thought, and then shook her head again, "No. It's... _fuzzy_. I can't quite... everything's a little..."

"Don't force it." She replied, soothingly, "You'll remember it when you need to."

"What do you mean?"

She hesitated, "Well. Let's just say I've done some forgetting of my own, yes?"

The girl looked at her for a moment. Jaina knew she understood what she was talking about. She had been astoundingly upfront with her daughter, and she had known from the age of ten pretty much every detail of what had happened in the Spire. Jaina wanted her to know, more than anything. She wanted her to know what events had led to her father's death. What he had chosen in order to save thousands.

"Yes," she replied, finally, "Yes, I suppose you have." There was a pause, and then girl shook her head again, and Jaina knew what was coming next: "We can't concentrate on that right now. You think you're ready?"

She drew in a breath, "To talk about the end of the world? Not really. You?"

"We have to. We need... we need to be thinking about what we are going to do."

"The Court of Blades..." she mused, softly. She paused for a moment, gathering herself, and then shook her head, "It could be the Jack. History never did say whether he killed that damned dragon."

But Lily shook her head, "We need to plan for the worst case scenario."

She gave a small, slightly hysterical laugh, "And that isn't it?"

"No. There were worse cards than the Jack. As far as we know the Court consisted of three members: the Knight, the Jack... and the Queen."

Jaina paused. "Warde said... the 'rightful monarch'."

"Yes."

"But they were all destroyed. All killed, _all_ of them."

She cocked an eyebrow, "Is that so? Did Jack of Blades not survive his 'fate'? Did he not manage to come back, _twice_, even? What if the Jack wasn't the only immortal to have survived. He locked his soul away, safe, what if another did the same. Not with a mask, of course. With something else."

"Like what?" She asked, edgily.

"Something they would value."

"But what would the Queen value?"

Lily sighed, heavily, "I don't know." she paused for a moment, her eyes tracing the stone floor, "Not much was written on the Queen. She was the most powerful of them all."

"The Queen of Blades."

"Yes."

Jaina shook her head, leaning back against the wall, "We are _screwed_."

Liliana gave a small, lopsided smile. "Yes."

* * *

Reaver watched the scene around him, unconcernedly. He was not overly worried at the predicament he had found himself in - not that he ever _was_ overly worried about _anything_, really - so for now occupied himself with watching and listening. They had moved him from the charming little cell up a few floors to what he assumed was the castle atrium. That was if they were in a castle, of course, but by the cold, grey stone paving the walls in large blocks it was either an Old Kingdom-esque castle or a very large crypt.

The men in this place were soldiers, but not that which he had seen before. The one who had so courteously introduced himself as 'Warde' before dragging the quite-dead body of his darling Liliana from the room had looked like a strange mix of Bowerstone's 'finest' and the garb the natives wore on an island he visited some time ago with his crew, who wore sandy, horrendous looking robes. It was most definitely armoured, with metal easily visible belong the fabric coating. They were guards, or soldiers, most certainly.

Funnily enough, though... not one of them seemed to be carrying any weapons. Which must mean...

Reaver grimaced with distaste. More Will. Magic. It had all died out long ago. He had witnessed it. Along with its death had brought the reintroduction of an even, fair fight.

Something appeared to finally be happening. The soldiers - guards, militia, whatever - were moving towards the large wooden door at the other side of the long hall, whispering amongst themselves. He frowned, watching them. What were they waiting for?

It took him a few moments before he heard it. Footsteps. Someone was coming.

He glanced lazily at the guard standing next to him. For once, his eyes were away from his, tracing the door, looking alert, ready.

But ready for what?

The footsteps were near the door. He could hear voices, and he smirked as he recognised one of them all too easily.

He watched with no surprise as three heavily built men bodily dragged his Sparrow into the room, bucking and cursing under their breaths as she put up quite a decent fight, despite having both her wrists tied with what looked like thick, strong rope.

As she saw the looming room she had entered, along with the sizeable number of guards within it, she seemed to resign herself a little to her fate, and let her feet down to the floor, ceasing her struggles. The men dragged her a little further into the room, and then left her there, moving back to help escort the delectable Liliana, who stood flanked by four others at the door.

Jaina glanced over the rope on her wrists, quickly, before looking up and finally acknowledging his presence.

"Oh." She said, looking him up and down with distaste, "_You_. Still alive, then?"

Reaver gave a small, wry smile, "Ah, good to see you too, my dear..."

She shook her head, disgustedly, and then turned to the door, ignoring him. Reaver narrowed his eyes a little. She was certainly lucky she was so utterly gorgeous. If she weren't he was sure he would have shot her a _long_ time ago.

"Lily." She said, her voice low and urgent, with a touch of undeniable danger that still managed to tighten his spine a little.

Her daughter looked at her, and then turned to the men that still had what looked like very tight grips on her arms.

"You will release me," she said, perfectly calmly, oozing with delicious confidence, "Because I cause no threat to you here, and you know it."

The guards hesitated, glancing at one another. Then the apparent leader nodded, grudgingly, and gave her a small shove away.

The push didn't unbalance her, and she moved immediately towards her mother, putting a firm hand on her shoulder - not supporting her, but being there if she happened to need supporting.

Reaver watched, musingly. What an odd little family... both so proud, yet so protective... it was truly remarkable that one hadn't snapped and shot the other long ago. Or, considering the circumstances that had led to their arrival in this marvellous gutter, maybe they _had_...

The guard he recognised immediately as Warde came in the door after them, ignoring the three Heroes completely and walking straight up to some nameless lackey, "Is it ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then begin. Now."

Monsieur Lackey nodded, and quickly moved into the centre of the room, where there stood a little stone basin, quite like some temple font of some kind. It was placed on a small platform, with two steps leading up to it. Reaver cocked his head, looking it over. A few incomprehensible symbols circled to top of it, but, apart from that, it looked completely unextraordinary.

He glanced at the 'Hero'. Sparrow was watching Warde, guardedly, her body visibly stiffening as he started to move towards them.

"Only one more thing is needed." He said, slowly.

"And what is that." Liliana asked, sharply.

He looked at her. "Blood. Yours."

* * *

A wall of Will hit Jaina smack in the stomach, and she was thrown back from her daughter, colliding with a barrier that wasn't there.

Warde took Liliana by the wrist, quickly followed by four other soldiers, and started dragging her towards the sacrificial font in the centre of the room.

Jaina's heart stopped. "_Lily_! _No_! Leave her alone! _Liliana_!"

Her daughter was fighting hard, but the combined force of all of them was impossible to resist for long, and they slowly dragged her where they needed her.

Her heart had started again, and now it was pounding, pounding hard in her chest, in her temples, the palms of her hands, the ball of her throat. She fought ferociously with the invisible force keeping her back, but to no avail. She looked around, and caught Reaver's eyes, the fury she always felt at seeing him for once surpassed with desperation, "_Reaver_."

The pirate cocked an eyebrow, giving a small smirk, "You expect me to save the damsel in distress, oh, I am sure she can save herself, mm?"

"Reaver!" she repeated, ferociously "_Reaver_, do something! _Stop_ them!"

Warde glanced at her, "Rest assured, your daughter will not be harmed, Sparrow."

"And what makes you think I'll _ever_ believe you!" she spat, fury and panic pumping through her.

"You should. If we had wanted _all_ of her blood we would have taken it by now. We require only an offering."

"An offering is something given with permission," Lily replied, her voice unusually vicious, "And I am afraid that is something you do not have."

"Interesting. For that is also something we do not _require_." He glanced over at Jaina again, and then motioned to a nameless, faceless soldier, "Ready her."

He moved over, swiftly, and took a hold on her wrist, "You. Get down on your knees."

She snatched her hand away from him, "I kneel before _no_ man."

"Then you will kneel now." He replied, coldly.

Sparrow hesitated, watching him very closely. Her eyes skimmed onto her daughter. She had got the message too, staring at the man holding her. Sparrow, for once, was not ferociously arguing with his grip on her daughter's arm. Instead she was silent, her eyes continuously flickering over the soldiers' faces, trying to get some sort of reading of off one of them, _any_ of them.

They were all blank. Emotionless.

Cold.

* * *

Reaver watched. When dear Sparrow still did not move, the soldier responded by hitting her behind her knees with what looked like a riding crop, and hard. She fell to her knees instantly, giving the low growl that he now easily recognised as a sound of her suppressed pain, catching her weight awkwardly on her bound hands. The soldier seemed satisfied, and nodded at Warde, who took another step towards Liliana.

Liliana was backing away. Warde caught her by the wrist and yanked out her hand, positioning it carefully over the small stone font, working at her fingers to open her closed fist as his free hand took hold of a short-bladed dagger from his belt.

"What does it do." Liliana asked, swiftly, her voice not entering panic yet, but still quite sharp, "What is it. What does it do."

"Only seeing is believing." The man replied, lowering the blade to her palm and forcing her hand tight shut around it before swiftly ripping it away.

The girl gave a sharp gasp of pain, trying to recoil back as Warde kept her firmly in place.

"Open."

The girl's hand shook as she fought against his grip, seemingly trying to keep her fist firmly closed whilst also trying to pull away from the stone beneath them.

"_Open_."

Warde finally managed to pry open her fingers, and Reaver watched as a short stream of blood fell from her gashed hand into the font below.

* * *

The explosion forced them all back a few steps. For Lily, she was thrown back off the small platform, her spine hitting the floor painfully. She staggered back to her feet, quickly, Warde's hand having been torn from hers by the impact. Smoke flooded the chamber, dark and thick, rolling from the font in front of her, filling her lungs with every breath. She coughed, choked, her body rejecting the metallic-tasting smog, and covered her mouth with a hand, trying to breathe as shallowly as possible.

"Mama?" she called out, her voice breaking slightly on the still repulsive taste in her mouth.

"Lily." A voice replied, but she could see nothing further than the beginnings of the platform in front of her.

Something was moving on the platform. The fog was swirling, shifting, crawling into a shape, a silhouette. Liliana tried to stumble back a few steps, only to find herself frozen in place, unable to move, Will holding her in her place.

The fog was clearing. She could see Jaina now, still on the floor on her knees, the guard behind her preventing her from standing. They locked gazes. Jaina's eyes were wide, and she was panting slightly, her breathing rough and uneven. Slowly, her gaze moved to the pillar of smoke before them.

It was moving again, the silhouette still morphing and forming, smog flowing over it, but it was now definitely an outline, definitely a shape.

Definitely human.

The smoke was fading. Colour was returning, colour flooding over the thing in front of them. She could make out a face. A body. Legs, arms, hands, shoulders, a face.

Her heart had stopped. She stared at the being on the platform, unable to say a single word, unable to feel anything but horror, terror, pure, fully-fledged fear.

"What are you." Jaina managed, her voice weak and shaking slightly.

The figure chucked. "I am a God."


	19. The Court of Blades

**The Court of Blades**

Jaina stumbled to her feet, swiftly. She glanced around, vaguely surprised that the guard had not forced her once again back to her knees, and then found the man was down on his own, bowing low to the figure before them.

She glanced back up at him again. Her feet were begging her to stumble back, away, away from this thing on the platform, the man that had appeared in a flash of smoke and blood. Her brain and pride didn't let her, holding herself firmly in her spot, only allowing her panic and confusion to be expressed in the widening of her eyes, the increase of her pulse, the tightening in her lungs.

He was wearing a mask. It was the first thing her eyes went to, the mask. It was a half-mask, covering the top half of his face from his hairline right down to just over the tip of his nose. She could see white, pure skin underneath, but the mask... the mask pulled her gaze. The design on it was archaic, a strange, almost flame-based pattern, curling and swirling around the tips of the cheeks, with one intricate line following the sweep of his brow and up to a pointed ellipse at the middle of the forehead that seemed somehow familiar. The mask was a dark violet, blending into a much lighter shade towards the bottom, and contoured with thick silver outlines.

Jaina's eyes managed to refocus, forcing herself to recognise the person beneath the mask. There wasn't much to see. He had a chiselled, shaped face with a sharp jaw line, and short, black hair - long and curved-over at the top, short at the sides. He was clean shaven. Tall, at least a head taller than them both, despite her daughter's Skill-induced height. His eyes shone, burning out at her through the mask, a deep shade of amber so crisp and intense that no human should possess it. A light scar the shape of a thin arrowhead cut across his right jawbone, barely an inch long.

The robes he was wearing matched the mask. He wore black trousers and a tunic, with a thick belt joining the two, covered by a short, ratty violet cloak, deeply hooded, punctuated by three black leather straps worn at intervals from his forearms down to his wrists, where thick gloves covered his hands, again black leather.

Her gaze moved over him. It was difficult to continue calculating the man in front of her when her eyes kept being drawn back to his, finding something about his almost _aureolin_ gaze so disconcerting that it was becoming difficult to concentrate. They seemed to change colour with even his slightest movement, the light giving a slight glint or glow only for them to be eclipsed by the shadow of his mask milliseconds later.

The man watched her watching him, and, slowly, a lopsided smile curled around one side of his rounded lips, and he took a few graceful steps towards her, walking down off the platform.

Jaina wanted to back away. She couldn't.

He stopped around six foot away from her, clocking her daughter with equal courtesy before turning the lopsided smile back onto her, "Good evening, Sparrow. Liliana."

* * *

His smooth, calm, perfectly refined, perfectly polite voice forming her daughter's name broke the spell. The word boiled through her systems, and Jaina immediately threw herself towards him, white-hot anger scorching through her chest.

Invisible hands caught her, swiftly, forcing her to stay in her place, so she settled for glaring at him with as much hatred as she could muster.

The demon looked at her with something close to concern, "Please, Sparrow. There is no reason for us not to be civil."

"Your guard dog over there said the same, as I remember it." she replied, her voice shaking only slightly in her rage, "Right before he strangled my daughter. And _shot_ me."

Again the thing forged emotion, looking almost apologetic, "Indeed. I've been informed of that misunderstanding."

"_Misunderstanding_?" the quiver in her voice took on harder, and a hand squeezed hard on her heart, "Were the people you _butchered_ a 'misunderstanding' too?"

"No." He replied, honestly, casually, "Those were very deliberate."

She looked at him for a moment. "How many people on that island."

"Fifty-six." He answered, immediately.

"And how many dead?"

"All of them."

Her hands were shaking now, tremors moving down her wrists all the way to her clenched fingers. "Fifty-six people. Just for one Hero."

He smirked that half-smile again, nodding, "Ah, but you are not just one Hero, are you? My dear woman, to get to you and your daughter... I would have wasted all of Albion."

The pure fact in his voice made her heart stop in its place, her breathing freeze. It was an appalling thing to say, pure evil, the words of the devil, but... somehow... it was all so...

Invigorating.

But his wording had brought something else back to her attention, and she looked to her right, swiftly seeking out her daughter, finding her still backed away, her hands lightly brushing the wall behind her, as if to keep herself standing.

"_Lily_?" she asked, sharply, concern etched in her voice.

Lily didn't look at her. Her eyes stayed on the man in front of them, fixed on him.

"I... I know you." She said, finally, her gaze not wavering, "I've _seen_ you, I _swear_ it."

The demon's eyes turned to her as he nodded, mildly, "That is quite possible. Except it wasn't entirely_ me_."

"What do you mean."

"Let me explain." He turned to his soldier, to Warde, who Jaina hadn't noticed was also on his knees, "Untie her. There is no need for restraints here. And, Warde, bind Liliana's wound." Jaina felt the nameless lackey take her hands and easily rip through the rope with a blade he pulled apparently from nowhere. She glanced down at her free hands for less than a second before latching her attention back onto the sorcerer.

His eyes moved back to Lily again, as he added, softly: "It must hurt."

Liliana bristled, yanking her hand back away from Warde, refusing him access to the wound, "I've had worse. Choking to death is not a particularly pleasant experience. Neither is being shot in the back. _Or_ the head."

He merely nodded, "I've no doubt."

The girl looked at him for a moment. "I'm not scarred."

He nodded again, agreeing, "No. There is no need to cause more damage than necessary."

"_Necessary_?" Jaina repeated, her anger returning again.

His attention shifted back to her, "Yes." he took a few more steps forwards, and she couldn't prevent a small flinch. He noticed. "There's no need to be afraid of me." he glanced back at Liliana again, offering her that strange smile, "What I offer you is more than anything _anyone_ can."

"Where do I know you from." She said, firmly, and Jaina noticed that she too was shaking slightly.

He paused, looking at her, and then smiled again, "You are very observant."

"Where do I know you from."

"Most people don't notice. I don't think even your dear mother did, at least not consciously."

"Where do I know you from."

He paused. Then nodded, "You don't know me. You haven't even _seen_ me, not truly. What you _have_ seen... is _him_."

He waved a gloved hand at the floor. Jaina followed his gaze, frowning, confused. Then she noticed what he was referring to.

He didn't have a shadow.

* * *

Something moved behind her and Liliana jerked her head to it, automatically, keeping her eyes on him. It moved again, and she twitched, flinching back and glancing over her shoulder. Nothing.

Then she felt something cold pass over her shoulders, it was so close, she could _feel_ breath on the back of her neck, and she snapped round on her heel, her heart picking up a few beats.

Something laughed; a high-pitched, ethereal laugh, and she turned back, giving a low growl of dissatisfaction as she realised she was being played with.

"I am not one who enjoys being mocked, _sir_." She said, managing a passable equivalent of her usual soft but biting contempt.

Strangely, the man in the deep violet cloak seemed to be equally displeased, looking around him with a small frown, "That is something I am aware of."

He waited for a second, and then lashed out, faster than she could see, catching something in mid air, "You'll behave yourself here, understood?"

The creature laughed, dancing out of his grip, but then bowed low, and stood still beside him.

Liliana stared at it, warily. A shadow. Like the ones in Wraithmarsh, like the ones that banshee had summoned, but... _tame_? The thing was _tame_?

"What is that." Her mother asked, finally, her eyes fixed on the being in front of them.

The man nodded, gesturing towards his shadow, casually, "Ah yes. This is Puck."

The word immediately registered in her, for she shook her head, immediately inflamed, "Puck? As in _puca_? It's a damned _nymph_?"

He smiled slightly, "Not quite. More... soulful."

"Whose?"

He glanced at her, "Hmm?"

Liliana looked at him, straight, "Despite your attempt at sugar-coating, I know _exactly_ what you mean. Whose souls?" she glanced over the nymph, distastefully, as it glanced her over and laughed, "What souls did you harvest to create this... _puca_."

He smiled again, pleasantly, "Oh, too many to keep track, my young Hero. Say hello, Puck."

The thing waved at her. She didn't give any reaction. Undeterred, the thing turned to greet Mama, who favoured it with a repulsed grimace, "I'm not fond of nymphs... soulful or otherwise."

"You'll hurt his feelings." He replied, almost mockingly, "If he had any." Then he turned serious again, looking at her through the gaps in his fitted mask, thoughtfully, "Nymphs died out centuries ago. It's rare to find a woman who knows of them." He glanced at Lily again, "Even _rarer_ to find _two_."

"I studied history."

"I know." she looked at him, and he smiled again, slowly, "I know everything about you. I know how you will react to my every word. I know your wants, desires, fears... better even than yourself. I _know_ you, _Liliana Jade_."

She raised an eyebrow, having not heard the name for a long time, "Jade?"

He echoed the reaction. "That _is_ your middle name, correct? Beautiful choice, Sparrow - though, of course, I am surprised you didn't choose _Marie_..."

Lily felt her mother's fury as palpable heat between them, "Don't even _mention _them! Don't you _**dare**_ name them!"

"Though Jade was her favourite stone, was it not?" he continued, apparently oblivious to her hatred, "You made her a necklace, didn't you? A necklace of bright, green -"

"_Stop_!" Jaina interrupted, quickly, "Stop."

Lily looked at her. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She wanted to go to her, to stop him, to _kill_ this man that so casually spoke of her former life, torn into shreds.

But Warde was still standing close behind her. And even the memory of his Will crushing at her throat was enough to keep her back.

"How long have you watched us." She asked, quietly.

He turned to her, smiled, "Oh... many many years."

"Who _are_ you?"

He cocked an eyebrow, "Was I not specific enough in my first introduction?"

Lily gave a sharp, sardonic laugh, "I am sure, but I would prefer it if you would be a little less... _equivocal_?"

His smile glittered, "I am sure. Then allow me to introduce myself." He took a few steps towards her, and she tensed. But he stopped, and gave a short, elegant bow, "I am the King of Blades."

* * *

Jaina immediately reacted, surging half a step forwards, "There's no such thing." She hissed, anger etched into her words.

The 'King' laughed a little, a light, musical sound that made her stomach clench, "Not _yet_, true. But that will be my title when my dear love is returned."

"So it's true." Liliana said, quietly, "The Queen _is_ returning."

He turned to her, "Yes. And that is why you are here."

"If you are as powerful as legend says you are then why in Avo's name would you need _us_." She replied, sharply.

"Because though we are powerful we are by no means invulnerable." He replied, instantly. She hesitated, confused, and he smiled slightly, "The Court has not set foot in Albion for so many years. The last, we were beaten, and broken. Now we must find a way to survive. To _adapt_." He looked at her for a second. "To _thrive_."

By now Lily could feel her heart hammering inside her chest. Not much could make her fear. Not much at all. She was a pirate, a Hero, a _warrior_. But the history she had read, turned into stories, myth, legend, of fire raining down from the skies, of pain, blood, fear... life under the control of the Court of Blades... she knew this couldn't happen. It couldn't be.

She wouldn't let it.

She took one ferocious step towards him, forgetting her fear, feeling only anger, "I tell you now - I would sooner see this world destroyed than see it under your Queen's sway. And sooner have the same fate for myself than assist you in seeing this accomplished."

He chuckled a little, as though her sudden defiance amused him, "Trust me, my dear Hero. Were you so easily destroyed, you would be of no interest to me whatsoever." He paused, and then took another step towards her, until he was close enough for her to see the way the shadows played on his golden eyes, "And you misunderstand me. I am in no need of _you_; I just need your _body_. Yours is... perfectly sufficient." He lifted a hand to brush the space a hair's breadth above her cheek, favouring her with a small, honest smile, "If not _more_ so. You are quite the beautiful woman, Liliana."

Jaina surged forwards, only to be just a swiftly restrained by the nearest guard, "_Don't you TOUCH her_!"

He turned on her just as quickly, "And _you_. _Sparrow_. The _Hero of Bowerstone_. You have the gift of immortality and you squander it. You _detest_ it. My Queen would relish it. She would treasure it. With your daughter's body, she can live again. An eternal life. Without death. Never aging. Staying perfect."

"You weren't experimenting on us to find the cause of our immortality." Lily said, realisation spreading over her quickly, turning her mouth dry, "You were looking for the _stretch_ of our immortality. The _limits_. You mean the Queen to take our bodies."

He glanced at her, approvingly, "Very well done, Liliana. You truly are incredible."

"It will not happen." She replied, preventing herself from gritting her teeth, "I will not allow it."

He raised an eyebrow, "Is that so? What exactly makes you think you have a choice, my dear?" he lowered his hand, watching her stare at him, her breathing sharp and hard through her nose. Then he smiled, "And, besides. It doesn't _have_ to be _you_." He turned, letting his eyes move pointedly over the other option.

"_No_." Warde grabbed her arm, keeping her back, but her anger was still left unchecked, "You will not touch her," she promised, furious eyes locked onto his, "I won't let you, you _won't_."

"Is that so?" he repeated, looking at her for a moment. Then he shook his head, moving away from her. He started looking over Jaina, curiously, and Lily watched as her mother obviously controlled herself, keeping in her place.

The King seemed to be considering something, eyes moving over her body without the slightest hint of restraint, of awkwardness, "I do not know which body my Queen would prefer." He glanced back at her, and she felt her muscles tense once more, "Dearest Liliana has youth, and beauty... and character... and an almost regal grace. Quite fitting." Then he looked back at her again, "But you, you yourself _also_ have these qualities. Which would you prefer?"

_Which would you __**prefer**__?_ He was giving them a _choice_? Lily's heart pounded in her chest. She knew immediately what she wanted her mother to say, without even a second's thought.

_Choose me. __**Do**__ it, Mama. __**Choose me**__._

But Jaina shook her head, disgustedly, "Shadows take you." She hissed, immediately, "I _won't_ choose between us."

He nodded, almost approvingly, but ignored the curse, "_Liliana_ wants you to choose her. Surely that is obvious?"

Jaina met her eyes for less than a second.

_**Choose me**__!_ she screamed at her, silently, knowing her eyes were doing the talking for her, _**Damn**__ it, Mama, just __**do**__ it! DO IT!_

She paused, and then wrenched her gaze away, fixing seething eyes on the man in front of her, "You will do whatever you wish to, no matter what I '_choose_'." She took a slow, deep breath, and shook her head, "I will not give you the satisfaction of begging for our lives."

He cocked an eyebrow, almost surprised, "Not even for hers?" there was a long, painful silence. Then he nodded, "Alright then. So what about _you_."

"What _about_ me." she asked, sharply.

"Well. Would _you_ be willing to take the blow, so to speak?"

She gave a short, bitter laugh, "What makes you think I'm interested in anything you have to offer?"

"Well." He said, his voice strangely soft, "After you've spent half your life searching for it, I'd have thought you'd know it when you saw it."

She looked at him for a second. "And just what have I been searching for, exactly?"

He gave a small, slow smile, "Death."


	20. A New Queen

**A New Queen**

"No." Lily was stumbling, her mind reeling, wanting so much to stop him, to end this, to _do __**something**_!

But there was nothing she could do.

"Mama." She said, ferociously, "Mama, _look_ at me."

Jaina's eyes stayed on the King. "What do you mean."

He smiled again, that same, sad, soft smile, "You wish you were dead, and you have so often tried. You long for silence, for peace. I can give you that."

"Don't listen to him." Lily implored, immediately. She knew full well why he was taking this track. She knew full well where this line of enquiry would lead.

The Hero's voice was weak, almost breathless, "If you manage it... you'll be a better man than me. Avo knows I've tried."

"How long you have sought out death, Jaina. I can help you."

"Mama. Don't."

"The banshee, what did it say? It said it brought peace. Death brings peace."

"Stop it." she growled, pain burning through her voice, "_Leave_ her alone, _stop_ it!"

"I can grant you what you have been fighting to accomplish for so many years. Since you lost your family. Since you _condemned_ them to _death_."

He'd hit the nail in the coffin. Lily felt her heart sink as she saw that expression on her mother's face. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she wouldn't acknowledge them, not here. The woman's face was black, storm clouds gathering in her eyes, which were still somehow fixed on him. There was no anger there. Just grief.

"And her?"

The King raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

"_What about her_." She said, firmly, "What happens to Liliana. Whichever one you choose, what will happen to the other. Seeing as you can't _kill_ us. What happens to the other."

He nodded, thoughtfully, "It is a difficult situation. I have no doubt that whichever body is chosen for my Queen, the other will react most aggressively. And, as you said, it would be difficult to find out how to kill you... I believe there is only one solution."

"Which is what." She repeated, quietly.

"Confinement. If I were to let either of you loose, you would only cause trouble in the new world. The other must be confined."

"So you'll just... _keep_ us." Lily said, distaste echoing through the shiver in her voice.

He looked to her, "Correct. I believe it is the only option."

"My lord."

Everyone spun round to the speaker. Warde had not made any comment since the monster had appeared on the damned platform. He stepped forwards, releasing Lily to do so, and bowed again, "If I may enter a personal plea." He glanced up at Jaina, his eyes fixed on hers with an expression Liliana decided she did not much like. "The Hero appeals to me."

The King raised an eyebrow, "_Does_ she..." he looked her over again, nodding, thoughtfully, "She is as beautiful as her daughter, it is true. But of course, the most attractive aspect of her is her mind. Her character."

"Yes."

He thought for a moment longer, and then nodded again, "Alright then, Warde. If the younger is chosen, you may have the Hero."

The soldier bowed again, "Thank you, my lord."

Fortunately, this exchange seemed to kick-start Jaina's brain back into gear, "_Have_? Oh, Warde, this is not going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship..."

His majesty gave a small smile, "Yes, I have no doubt that particular friendship would be... rather one-sided."

"_Royal intelligence_, whatever next." She replied, scathingly, "And what if _I_ am chosen."

"He will be put to death."

Jaina jerked her head to hers, confused, "What?"

Liliana smiled, "You can't have someone in your company who has eyes for the future queen." She replied, reasonably, silkily, "If you are chosen, Warde will die."

"Oh." She glanced over the sorcerer again in a new light, "Every cloud..."

The King smiled, approvingly, "Ah, the pirate rears her head. Quite correct, though. But I have no doubt Warde is well aware of the consequences of his choice. Is that not correct, Warde."

"Yes, my lord."

"Well, I'm so glad of _that_."

Liliana had seen many a man flinch at the ferocious bite her mother could so easily inject into her tone, but it seemed the King and Warde, at least, we immune.

However... one or two of the masked guards around them shifted slightly, and Lily smirked. Not so invulnerable after _all_...

"Then perhaps it is time you made up your mind, dear sir," she said, her voice turning back into her easy, playful tone with only the slightest bit of effort, "It does not bode well that a future monarch is so indecisive."

"Very well," he replied, just as easily, "If that is your wish." He turned to a random guard, ignoring the bow the man made as his gaze changed, "Take the pirate to the dungeons. I will deal with him later."

"How." Jaina asked, swiftly, as the so-far silent Reaver was forced into cuffs once again.

A small smirk moved around the King's lips, "Do not fear, Sparrow. I know you are protective of those who have fought with you. Trust me, he will still be in a serviceable condition when you decide to... _thank_ him for that."

Lily frowned at that. Jaina remained impassive. "Why are you keeping him."

"Perhaps... because yours is not the only power I am interested in." He let that lie for a second, and then nodded at the guard again. "Take him."

Lily watched as the nameless watchman led the unresponsive pirate across the hall, towards the door. Reaver caught her eyes just before leaving, and, typically, gave her a slow smile, and a wink.

She glanced up at the King. He had noticed it too, and was watching the closed door with a small, distasteful frown, "Pirates." Then he shook his head, "But his is new magic to us. And very interesting."

"So." Jaina said, firmly, bringing him back to the point, "How will this decision be made."

He paused for a moment, and then glanced back at her, "Simply. My Queen does not have the power at the moment to break in from the netherworld, but she can still let her will be known." He gave them both a small smile, "We will simply ask her."

"I doubt anything is simple with the Court," she replied, instantly, "What does the ritual require, more blood?" he nodded, politely, and she visibly gritted her teeth, "Then it will be mine."

"There is no point in weakening you both." He argued, reasonably. Then he looked to her, "Liliana, would you?"

"I have a choice in this?" she asked, somewhat sceptically.

"Correct. Your mother has offered, but you are already bleeding." He cocked an eyebrow, shrugging, casually, "Which would you rather, loose blood that you would anyway, or weaken your mother?"

Lily paused for a moment. She glanced down. Her hands were in fists, but blood had still managed to escape through the gaps between her fingers, pooling in a small puddle on the floor, the wound still seeping. It hurt a little, but not enough to have captured her attention considering the current circumstances. She had only just now been reminded of it.

She looked up to her mother, turning her palm round so the blood could no longer spill onto the stone floor, "It makes sense."

There was a long pause. "First thing that _has_." She admitted, very, very reluctantly.

"Very well." Lily brought up her hand, pressing neatly either side of the long, jagged wound, suppressing her flinch at the fresh, sharp pain, stimulating it until blood filled perhaps a quarter inch of the cup of her hand. She looked back up at the King. "What must I do." She asked, her voice completely deadpan.

He looked her over, then nodded. "Over by the font, then." He murmured, taking a few steps towards it himself.

His voice had turned soft, contemplative, his eyes moving over her with something close to appreciation instead of his usual mild concern, and Lily wondered why. Perhaps he was surprised; it was not every day you saw a woman willing to worsen a wound in order to create a higher blood flow, of course. But she had a feeling it was something else.

She looked him over, calculatingly. He was a man, despite his claims otherwise. Perhaps he found the sight attractive. The sight of a young woman, dressed in a too-tight shirt and a pair of leggings, holding a pool of blood in her hand.

"Does this satisfy you?" she asked, bluntly, raising her eyes to his without a flinch.

He gave a small, half-smile, not at all discomfited at being caught out, "In a way you couldn't possibly understand." He nodded once again at the font behind her, "Over there."

She paused for a moment, and then obeyed, walking over to the basin on the platform, glancing it over, almost gingerly, "What must I do."

"Pour a little into the basin. Not all."

She obeyed, watching the blue mixture inside swirl and darken to accommodate her blood, clouding over and turning black.

She watched it for a second, and then looked up at him, "Next?"

"Our blood must be combined."

"And how is that."

He looked at her, and she guessed, shaking her head and giving a small laugh, the realisation easy. She looked at her hand for a moment, and then nodded, "Very _well_..."

The King unlatched a gauntlet, placing it neatly on the side of the font. He held out his hand, palm up, and she looked at it. He wasn't touching her. He was still giving her the choice.

Lily gave a low sigh, and moved her hand over his, allowing a short stream of the blood to drip onto his bare skin.

He nodded, and then took a thin bladed knife from somewhere beneath his cloak, lowering it to his hand and cutting down. Blood spilled out immediately, mixing with hers, and he immediately raised it to his mouth to drink.

Liliana cocked an eyebrow, watching the scene distastefully. He raised his head back up to hers again. There was a little blood smeared over his lips, and, as he slowly licked it off, Liliana found her heart pumping a little harder. She gave a small smile at the irony of the situation, then shook her head, "And now?"

He pressed down on his wound, allowing more blood to spill the same as she had, and then poured it into her palm and nodded at it, "Drink. Stay over the font, and as soon as the blood touches your tongue, pour the rest in immediately."

"Why the hurry?"

He looked at her for a second. "This may hurt." He replied, finally, "And the potion must be mixed while the blood is still fresh in your mouth."

"So if I were to collapse, the ritual would not be completed." She completed, shaking her head, sceptically. She hesitated for a moment, looking at the red liquid in her palm. The bloods seemed to be refusing to merge, swirling around each other like oil on water. She moved her hand over the font, took a few more steps towards it.

She hesitated again. Her eyes flickered to her mother. If she was picked, she would die, and the Queen would consume her body. If she _wasn't_... she would be Warde's.

Either option was unthinkable to her. She couldn't let this happen.

But she was.

Liliana paused for one last second, and then brought her hand up to her lips and drank.

* * *

Fire burned through her immediately, and she doubled over, her hand catching on the font, blood spilling over her reflexively clenched fist and dribbling into the potion.

Liliana did not notice. She fell to her knees, shaking intensely, spitting out the remains of the mixture onto the stonework, trying in vain to rid herself of the poison in her mouth. Pain split through her body, emanating from her mouth and throat but surging all through her, boiling through her stomach and head and heart and eyes, scorching her senses, her body bucking and arching as she retched onto the floor, pain splitting through her.

She could vaguely hear her mother shouting something from behind her, and hands were clutching onto her shoulders, but they weren't hers. They were hard and gloved and pulling her tightly back, up, tugging her away from the plinth and then abandoning her.

She managed to look up. A nameless soldier held her back, and the King watched her, intently, his eyes flickering over her convulsing form.

"Breathe, Liliana." He said, softly, "It will soon be over."

She gritted her teeth as another bout of pain flew through her body, her heart pounding, managing to yank her head over to Jaina and see that _she_ was on the floor, too, surrounded by a bright, blinding white light. She tried to push herself a little bit upright, to go to her, to _see_ her, but a sharp bolt of pain smashed her head back to the floor. She raised a hand to her eyes and then was forced to retch again as her own light, a deep, dark purple, tore through her eyes, leaving her wincing and recoiling, forcing them shut.

A sharp strike of pain flew through her back, and she arched her spine as a strange, scrambled yelp wrenched from her lips. The pain was consuming, but, somehow, she felt the voice of reason screaming at her.

_What the hell do you think you're doing, lass? Get to your damned senses!_

Captain Giles, screaming at her on the bow of the Coral. God, it was so long ago. She couldn't even remember what it was over.

_Did you hear me, girl? I said __**get to your damned senses**__!_

She forced herself to breathe. She forced herself to think. She forced herself to bear it. She forced herself to fight it, to fight the pain, fight the agony splintering through her body, until, finally...

The pain stopped. Liliana stayed on the floor, giving herself some time. Her breathing was haphazard, deep, heaving. She let out a low, pained growl, and, with some force, wrenched herself up to her knees.

She looked up. Jaina was panting, heavily, but she too had managed to push herself onto all-fours, staring at something to Lily's right. She looked. She was looking at the King.

He stood at the foot of the font, frowning intensely at the bloodied liquid inside. He muttered under his breath, and she shook her head, forcing herself to listen.

"Purple and white." He murmured, swirling a hand slowly through the font's contents, "Your will, my majesty."

Her head spun and a ringing sounded through her ears. She felt sick, weak. She was dizzy. She tried to stand but her legs buckled and she was on the floor again. The gravity of the situation hit her hard and fast, and within a second she was close to pure panic, still desperately trying to struggle to her feet.

Her throat closed. Her heart pounded.

The King turned to face his subjects. "She has chosen Liliana."


	21. Ground Rules

**Ground Rules**

The reaction was instantaneous, and very vocal. Jaina immediately threw herself towards her daughter, fighting with a sudden grip on her wrist from Warde, alternating fluidly between screaming at the King and Lily to screaming at him, him dragging her away towards the door, Liliana, still on the floor, throwing herself forwards only to be held back by some more damned Will, calling out to her, fighting furiously with an invisible bond, "Mama! Mama, don't, please -"

"Lily! Lily, listen to me! _Get your hands off me_, get _**off**_!"

"Mama!"

"You stay _away_ from her, keep _back_! Lily!"

"_Warde_!"

"_Lily_!" she managed to yank herself away from him, but barely got two steps back before he and another guard caught hold of her again. She fought ferociously with the holds before yanking her head up, her crystal hair layered over her face, "Liliana." She said, panting slightly, "Lily, listen to me. You have to _fight_. You have to _fight_."

"_Mama_?"

They were dragging her away towards the big, heavy door, "Lily! _Defend_ yourself! Don't worry about me, _fight_ dammit! Listen to me, _Lily_, I -"

But the door slammed shut, covering whatever she had been about to say. Liliana had stopped fighting. She stood perfectly still, eyes locked on the closed wooden doors. Her breathing hurt.

"Well," the man behind her said, slowly, "_That_ was... dramatic..."

Lily didn't reply. She heard him moving closer, and her attention quickly moved to him. She met his amber eyes, saying nothing. The slightest frown moved over his face, and he moved closer, "_Too_ dramatic. Are you alright?"

"Well." She managed, finally, her voice breathy and quiet, "You have left me in... quite the predicament, sir. Because... if Warde so much... as _touches_ my mother... I will tear the whole lot of you to pieces."

He gave a small smile, "As strong as you are, I doubt it, my dear Hero."

"Do not underestimate me, sir." She said, her voice perfectly quiet, perfectly calm, "I do not care if it is now, or tomorrow, or even in ten years time, I _will_ _kill_ you. _All_ of you."

The man watched her for a moment. Then he shook his head, "I apologise for distressing you so, Liliana. I will leave you to think about this. There is much to be done. For now, make yourself comfortable. The castle is yours."

"For now I will start with finding my mother." she replied, immediately.

"You may enter any room in the castle providing the door is unlocked. Any locked rooms will remain, for the moment, inaccessible."

"And the dungeons are which way?"

"When you wish it, a room on the second floor, south-east wing, has been prepared for you." He continued, again as if he hadn't heard her.

"Is that right." She said, uninterestedly.

"Any of the servants will help you should you lose your way."

She looked at him. "The dungeons. Which way are they."

He paused for a second, watching her. "They are below the ground floor. If you continue along this way, the stairs are by the atrium." She moved immediately, "But the door is locked."

She stopped. Turned back to him. "Then _un_lock it."

He remained indifferent, "I have gone over the system, have I not? If the door is open you may come and go as you please. If the door is locked, the room is inaccessible to you."

Lily gave a small, sceptical snort, "We'll see how 'inaccessible' it is."

"Liliana."

She looked at him, raising her eyebrows, "Yes, my lord?"

He looked at her for a second. "What impetuous boldness for one so young."

"What mulish obstinacy for one so old." She returned, deftly.

There was another pause. Then he shook his head, taking the glove from the font and pulling it back on, easily, "I will take my leave. By all means, please explore your surroundings."

She shook her head, "I have no need to. I do not intend to stay."

"Then feel free to do whatever you wish. The servants' quarters are towards the western side of the castle, if you need anything, please stop there. They will give you whatever is in their power to give."

"Does that include a master key?"

A small smile graced his lips, "I'm afraid not." He bowed to her, politely, "Good day, Liliana. And... do try to think over your situation. Jaina is gone, Liliana. Do not allow your thoughts to linger overlong. You will forget her, given time."

Liliana shot him a scathing, withering look, "_There_, _**dear sir**_... you could not _be_ more wrong."

* * *

"_No_!"

Jaina bolted towards the door as it shut, but hands grabbed her shoulders, wrenching her back, away, dragging her back down the corridor.

"_Liliana_!"

She fought ferociously against their grips, the knowledge that her hands were being bolted together by some sort of handcuffs not escaping her attention.

"LILIANA!"

Her heart pounded in her stomach, her chest, her palms, she couldn't slow it down, couldn't stop it. She felt hands dragging her down the long corridor, and fought hard to regain calm, "Let me go. Let me _go_!"

"Jaina, if you don't stop struggling, we will have to restrain you in a more... _permanent_ manner." Warde said, his voice completely casual, "Is that understood?"

She hesitated, letting the threat wash over her for a moment, her mind supplying a suitably vicious curse. _This_ was why she hated people knowing about her invulnerability. People suddenly had a lot more leverage on her - what was one bullet in her head when they knew it couldn't kill her, but only subdue her?

As the hands pulled her back again she didn't struggle. Her mind was running like clockwork, trying frantically, _desperately_, to think of something she could do, _anything_ she could do, to stop this happening. This couldn't happen. _This couldn't happen_.

"Tell me, Warde," she said, her voice quiet and stable as her insides shook, "Do you have children?"

He shook his head, not even glancing at her as they negotiated her down the long hallways, "I don't think that would be possible."

They passed a coat of arms. It seemed almost completely black, but as Jaina tried to glance at it they pulled her on, "Maybe so." She glanced at the halls around them, trying to get some small bearing of who made this castle and why. "So what are you. Temple of Shadows?"

Her captor gave a small laugh, "Nothing so transitory, I'm afraid. We're part of the Sect of Blades."

She glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow, "How ominous."

He smiled, "Quite."

"But not good enough to be one of the Court, am I right?" she was trying to goad him. She needed space, if only a little. Then she could go find Liliana.

But Warde did not so much as blink, "It's not a matter of skill or ability. The Court are spawned, not taught."

"_Spawned_?" again he didn't look at her, and she shook her head, "So... what does the Sect of Blades... _do_, what's it _for_?"

"We were created many decades ago to further the Blades' cause. We are to resurrect them whenever we can, and spend the rest of our efforts on preparing this world for their return."

"'Preparing'? Preparing _how_?" he didn't reply. Jaina ground her teeth, frustratedly. If this was how their conversations were going to go, she'd have preferred the bullet to the head. She glanced down at the binds on her hands. Then back to him again, "Take these off. There's no need for them here, surely."

Perhaps she could take them. She was without sword or Will, but if she had the advantage of surprise...

"No." he replied, putting that idea down in a hurry.

"_Why_."

"Because there is no need for you to die again tonight." He replied, evenly. She glared at him, and he shot her a small, curious glance, "Why is it that you fight when you have no chance of changing anything?"

"Because I have to." She cut back, sharply. She paused, and then took in a breath, "You are going to kill my daughter." Saying it out loud solidified it, confirmed it. Her fingers started to shake again. "I hope you can understand the fact that I cannot let that happen."

"Tell me," he said, giving a small, nasty-looking smirk, "What is it exactly about your current situation that makes you think you have a _choice_?"

Jaina shook her head, ignoring his words, feeling tears pick behind her eyes as her heart thudded in her chest. No choice. No chance. No choice. She couldn't save herself, let alone Liliana.

Liliana.

"I will find a way," she replied, fiercely, "I can't let it happen. I _won't_ let it happen."

Not again.

"_You know nothing. I should have gone out into the dark and found your body that night. But I was hasty. I let the bloodline flourish."_

Oh God, not again. Not the flashbacks, not here. Not the memories, not the shivers, not the shakes, she had nowhere to go in this hell, no small, secluded spot where she could wait it out, wait for it to pass. Not here. No. _Control yourself, Jaina_. Not here.

"_And you... __**have**__ flourished."_

No. Not again. This couldn't happen. Not another child, not another life, she wouldn't let them, she couldn't let them, she knew she wouldn't stand the pain of another lost child, another empty chair, another empty grave with no body to bury.

"_But this time is different. The last of the Heroic blood will flow out onto this hilltop."_

No. Stop. Stop stop STOP! She could NOT handle this right now! She was panting, her heart pounding, wincing and flinching as memories pounded against her mind, her sanity, the Spire Guards' whips on her back, their hands on her skin, her daughter's face, completely blank, when seeing her for the first time in over ten years, little Rose Marie.

She'd stopped. She hadn't noticed. Her guards had. But this time they didn't drag her along. They just stared at her, Warde watching the emotions flickering over her face with an almost wary interest.

"_Just as it now spatters the walls of your family home."_

No. _No_. _**NO**_!

"_Your husband and children are dead."_

Jaina bit into her lip until she tasted blood. She staggered, caught her weight on one of the walls, barely standing. She looked up. Violet eyes met hers. Silent. Expectant.

"Kill me." she said, her voice shaking.

Warde looked at her for a moment, and then smirked, "With pleasure."

* * *

After almost three hours of trying and failing to find an unlocked passage into the dungeons, Liliana had made her way slowly to the room on the second floor in the south-east wing. She just needed time, she had thought, if she just played along with this madman's wishes she would have the time she needed, and then she would think of something. Her first sight of her room, though, changed her mind completely. The man wasn't mad. He was _vicious_.

The room was decorated like The Seraphim.

She had hesitated. She had paused. Everything, down to the smallest detail, the pattern on the cherry wood table, was identical to her old captain's cabin. The red and gold stood out proudly against the black and brown, the shade of cherry wood, the _smell_ of cherry wood.

Liliana looked around herself, quickly. She frowned over the out-of-place wooden cabinet for a moment, before freezing in her place as she realised what was in it.

_The Red Dragon_.

She was over there in a shot, but nothing she could do would make the damned thing open. It was fitted inside a wooden cabinet, so alike to the many The Seraphim had sported, with a delicate glass front, one that should have cracked so easily with the blow of a nearby marble ornament, but stayed completed unscathed.

Another pause. Another think. Then she shook her head and strode over to the window, swiftly, levering it open and leaning out a little. The sea, lapping at bare cliffs. And a fifty foot drop to the rocks below.

She gave a low, dissatisfied growl, and turned back to the room. She hesitated. It was so like her Seraphim it was almost unsettling. The open window allowed her to hear the calls of the seabirds outside, and the distant rumble of the sea against rock, coupled with the salty smell of unpurified water carried on a westward wind. The whole scene was quite disorientating.

Liliana let her eyes close for a second. If she concentrated, she could vaguely hear the sound of voices on the floors above and below, and, if she let herself believe it, she was sure she could smell the iron-like taint of gunpowder. The Seraphim...

She opened her eyes. Looked around her. She calculated the differences, forcing herself to recognise them. The walls beneath the cherry-wood panelling were stone. The window was long, thin and rectangular, instead of the small, circular portholes on her old ship. The voices, though faint, were completely unfamiliar, and the floor below her feet was oh-so-stable.

She moved over to the luxurious king-size bed - _her_ bed - and sat down, slowly. This was mad. This was _insane_. Had he actually thought that she would _appreciate_ this? That she would _appreciate_ her prison looking exactly like her ship. Perhaps he thought he would make her feel more at home, that she would truly consider _this_ her home.

He was mad.

Lily moved her gaze dully around the room. Some things in there didn't quite strike true. An unfamiliar vase of white rhododendrons sat on the bedside table, and, fleetingly, the young pirate wondered whether her 'lord' had been unable to find lilies. Or, perhaps, unable to tell the difference. Not that it mattered, of course. She much preferred orchids.

And in _purple_. Liliana didn't like white, as a whole. It felt to her far too pure, and gimmicky, too, as if staged. Plus it was a devil to keep clean. She wondered why their Majesty hadn't picked her dislike of the colour up, and, if he had, why he had bothered to put the flowers in. He seemed to know pretty much everything else about her, after all. Perhaps he was trying to _convert_ her. Liliana smirked at the idea. She was hardly the _Queen type_ - though she had a royal grace and beauty, that was where the similarities ended - and it was obvious the King knew it. His attempt at indoctrination was laughable. She knew where her loyalties lay.

Her eyes wandered back to her Red Dragon. Her Red Dragon. To have that back in her hands again... She knew the feel of it as well as she knew herself, knew every grain of the handle, the slightest scratch along the barrel that had existed ever since she had first laid eyes on it.

No, this wasn't home. Not by a long shot

This was hell.


	22. Questions and Answers

**Questions and Answers**

It was two days and a night before the King's envoy came to Liliana's room. The room was still lit by the low candlelight, which Liliana had found a long time ago could not be used to burn anything but the wick, but it was difficult to see anything around the completely and utterly trashed room.

Lily glanced up. Her eyes paused on the masked face for a moment, but then she smiled, getting fluidly to her feet, deftly ignoring the crunch of glass under her boots, "Please, come in."

He hesitated, looking around him. She followed his gaze, curiously. She had managed to tear every single scrap of fabric down from the walls, along with having a good - though not as effectual - try at the cherry-wood panelling. Every single one of the standalone lamps had been smashed, some thrown at walls, others having found their deaths under a heeled boot, a pair of which she had discovered in the wardrobes before shredding every last piece of clothing in there. She still hadn't managed to tear down the cupboard holding her Dragon, but everything else was in tatters, glass mixing with fabric and metal and wood - hard, considering her ever-present lack of Will ability, but she still had a little Heroically-modified muscle behind her.

She stopped observing the room, instead moving her eyes back to the man at the door, cocking an eyebrow, "Sorry. I wasn't expecting visitors." Her eyes moved, looking him over, deliberately, "And what a visitor we _have_... Hmm..."

He shifted in his place. He was short, perhaps about five foot four, but quite broad for his height. Blue eyes and matted black hair, which she had a strong urge to take a pair of shearers to. Anything else was covered by the mask.

Her eyes flickered down. No weapons. Not that that seemed to make a damned bit of difference in this place.

The man took a step into the room, "I've been sent to -"

She swiftly intervened, raising a hand, "_Not_... with _that_."

He paused, "With what?"

"The mask, take it off."

"Why?"

She sighed, paused for a moment, shaking her head at him. Alright, so perhaps she was more used to the male population obeying her every order. But she _was_ a _Captain_, after all. "You're on _my_ ship now." She explained, casually. She took his pause for confusion, or perhaps derision, and raised an eyebrow, nodding, "Mm, since the second you passed through that door. _Over the threshold_... so to speak. Take it off."

This time his pause lasted for quite a long time. Then, remarkably, he nodded, and raised a hand to his head, pulling off the mask with a shake of his far too tangled hair.

White. Pale, like he had spent one too many nights in dark rooms. He had odd scars around his lips, three long, diagonal cuts, almost like the poor man had had a fight with a guy wielding an especially sharp fork.

But what hit her most was... his age. He wasn't short. He was _young_.

Liliana smiled, slowly. Young. Pale. Clearly not the strongest of the pack, but that wasn't taking into account his powers, of course. But still. He was a boy. And she knew how to treat boys.

She raised an eyebrow, taking a few delicate steps towards him, very conscious of her moderate lack of clothing, but not because of any sort of insecurity. She considered her appearance. She had bathed, so she was still almost presentable, but had stuck with the clothing she had awoken in. She could have changed, if she had so wished; she had found a cupboard full of exact replicas of her own clothing. She could have worn them, but she had frankly found the sight almost repulsive in its exactness. Instead she wore her own leggings, still torn a little from the storm, and the guard shirt, still splattered with her own blood. "And you are?"

The boy looked at her, "I'm Kenton."

She nodded, "Liliana, but I'm sure you know that by now. A pleasure to meet you." She would have taken his hand, but the slightest flinch he had given at her step forwards made her decide otherwise. She had to read this one carefully, if she had any chance of influencing him. She kept her distance, still favouring him with a lopsided smile, "So. _Kenton_. Is that your first name or your last name?"

"Both."

The eyebrow rose again, "Your name is Kenton Kenton."

"No. Just Kenton."

She nodded, "Ah. So you don't have surnames." she thought about it, "Warde didn't have a surname. Unless that _was_ his surname, of course."

"Or both." Kenton completed, nodding almost uneasily.

Liliana paused for a moment, considering him. Then she shook her head, "Anyway. How can I help you, _Kenton_?"

"My Lord wishes to see you."

Ah. Of course. The first meeting was the hardest, and it would be easier to get it out of the way, she knew, but she still had no desire at all to meet with _her lord_. Time to side-track. She nodded again, thoughtfully, "Mm, and who is _your Lord_."

"You know who he is."

She glanced at him, "Do I?"

"He's the King of Blades."

The pirate shook her head, dismissively, waving a hand, "Oh yes, I know that, but who is he _really_." Kenton stayed silent. She took a few more steps towards him, forcing his eyes to stay on hers, "The King of Blades doesn't _exist_. The Court of Blades had three members, the Knight, the Jack, the Queen, _no_ King. So is he new? A new recruit? Or... Is he something else."

At this the boy put up a hand, just as she had only a moment ago. Liliana raised an eyebrow, but consented, looking at him, questioningly. "Perhaps you would be better suited," he said, quietly, "addressing these questions to _him_. He requests that you dine with him. Tonight, in the first floor dining room, at sunset."

"How dramatic."

"This gives you about three hours."

She raised her eyebrows, "To do what?" she asked, a little mockingly, smiling and motioning at the room around her, "I'm afraid I've simply nothing to wear."

The boy hesitated, glancing around the room again, "Yes... well..." he paused, then glanced at her, "That can be easily fixed."

She frowned a little, but all of a sudden her eyes involuntary shut, just for a millisecond, a blink, but when she opened them...

The room was back to normal.

* * *

Liliana froze for a moment. She looked around. Everything. Every single little thing was back in its place. The drapes back on the wall, whole, the glass ornaments back on the table, unbroken...

Everything back to normal.

Dear Avo, this kid was good.

She paused, and then locked eyes with his, completely deadpan, "Do you have any idea how long I spent _perfecting_ that décor?"

Kenton had ignored her, walking straight across to a cupboard by the left wall, opening it and looking at the many garments inside, "Why don't you try the green one?"

She followed his gaze. The clothes inside were the ones left there by the King, the ones she'd never seen before she'd torn them into shreds. They had been rich, vibrant coloured silks, furs, velvets, materials she'd never seen before, even with her own expensive tastes.

He took out a bottle-green dress, shoulderless and strapless, instead having a long strip of fabric that appeared to go round the neck. It looked about floor length, and could have been velvet, but she wasn't sure.

"Try this one." He repeated, holding it out to her, "It'll go with your eyes."

She didn't take it, leaving her eyes on his, "My eyes are brown. And the day I take fashion advice from someone wearing a mask, well... will most probably be the day I submit to your _lord_." She nodded to the door, giving him a small smile, "Run along now."

* * *

Liliana made her way slowly down to the first floor dining room at a little after sunset. She had refused to wear the outfit Kenton had picked for her - call it a matter of pride - instead reluctantly slipping into a blue silk chiffon dress, low at the front with a v-neck, but tastefully low to the floor. She wasn't used to the feel of silk, but made do. She kept the heeled boots, and placed a thick, decorated rope necklace around her neck. Aside from the fact that she was naturally attracted to anything nautical, she figured, if push came to shove, it would make a fine garrotte.

It took her some time to find the correct room. The castle was bigger than she thought, and the corridors were distractingly difficult to navigate. She tried to commit them to memory; she'd have to get to know this place by heart if there was even a _chance_ of her escaping it.

She found the door, finally, and slowly stepped inside.

* * *

The King of Blades sat at one side of a large table, one that was adorned with plates of rich food. Liliana had decided within the first three seconds that she would not so much as touch it. It had been more than three days since she had eaten, but she had lasted longer than that before. She had lasted a _lot_ longer than that before.

Her eyes moved over the scene in front of her, not recognising the presence of her lord just yet. It hadn't occurred to her that Blades could do something as ordinary as eat food. They were most designed for the absorption of a virgin's blood, or some other such horror story. She glanced over the meal. As far as she could tell, no eye of newt, or bat's blood, or anything else her rather rabid imagination could conjure up for her.

Her eyes finally moved back to the King's amber ones. "Why have you summoned me?"

He stood, politely, "Liliana. I had hoped you would join me." His eyes moved over her, once, "You look beautiful."

"Yes. And I believe I asked you a question. Why have you summoned me."

"I want to know the woman I will be spending eternity with." He replied, easily.

"Except it won't be me." She countered, almost sharply, "It'll be your Queen. I'll be dead. So what is the point."

He looked at her for a moment, and then smiled, lopsidedly, "Politesse. Please. Sit, eat."

Liliana paused, eyes moving over the rich banquet in front of her. She sat in the chair he had motioned her to, slowly. Then, with deliberate intent, she forced the plate off of the table with one swift shove of the back of her hand, watching disinterestedly as it smashed into a hundred pieces against the wall. Ignoring the _King's_ eyes on her, she proceeded to pour herself out a goblet of wine. She took it up to her lips and tried it, smiling as she recognised the taste, "The Tenebrous. You have expensive tastes... _my lord_."

He was watching her, evenly, "You must eat."

"_Must_ I."

"Yes. I want that body healthy."

"Oh, and here I thought you were actually _concerned_ for me." She raised her glass to him, mockingly, "I'm crushed."

"If you do not eat, you will be forced to."

She smirked, "_Oh_, I'd like to see _that_..."

He gave a low, weary sigh, settling back in his chair, "How long will you fight against this, Liliana?"

"Until the day you die... _my lord_." Then she shook her head, "Except that's not right, is it. What do you call a King? Your Majesty? Your Highness?"

"You would rather a more human name, yes?"

"I'd _rather_ not call you _any_thing."

He nodded, thoughtfully, "Of course. Well, let me think... let's try..." he thought for a moment, and then smiled, "William. You may call me William."

She frowned slightly, "William?"

"He was your first King, was he not? William Black... Archon of the Old Kingdom."

"You'd name yourself after that man that single-handedly defeated the Court of Blades?" she asked, sceptically.

He nodded, mildly, "Yes. To remind us of our mistakes." Then he seemed to reconsider, "And... well. It wasn't quite single-handedly."

"Mm, yes, the _Hero of Oakvale_... I've read about him."

"There isn't much to read."

She nodded, agreeing, taking another sip of her wine, "No, there isn't. Rumours, whispers... a single, equivocal line in an ancient, dusty book. But he's there if you look for him. I found him... quite interesting."

He nodded, slowly. "You should, considering your connection."

She glanced at him, "I found no such connection." Then she paused, and acquiesced, "But perhaps mother has been holding out on me again. It was fine with father, but anything before that she seems to want to keep to herself, I think she thinks it will give me ideas."

"Ideas?"

She smiled, "Hunting down dragons, and such. Becoming a _true Hero_, like the old legends. The Hero of Oakvale, the Hero of Bowerstone... it became the Hero of _Albion_, towards the end. They do like to come up with names for us, don't they?"

"What about you?"

"Me?" she shrugged, "I don't know. The Hero of Bloodstone doesn't quite fit, does it? And I suppose you could say that that title is taken, though there are few I know who would call Reaver a 'hero'." She tilted her head to one side, "Except perhaps those who have slept with him. Now _that_ would be a story."

'William' looked at her for a moment, "A little off topic." He commented, calmly.

She shrugged, idly, "Your topic bores me."

Unfortunately, he seemed not to take offence: "Very well. Then would you answer me a question?"

She looked at him, "Why don't you ask and see?"

"Kenton told me you ordered him to take off his mask."

"Is that a statement or a question?"

"A statement, I suppose." He looked at her, shrewdly, and then leant in close, "What is it about masks that makes you uncomfortable?"

She met his masked face easily, "Uncomfortable? What makes you think masks make me uncomfortable?"

He sighed, leant back, "Do you answer every question with a question?"

She kept her face straight, "I thought you said that last one was a statement?"

"Mm, I did." He paused, considering her, and then shook his head, "You're a difficult conversationalist, Liliana."

This time she allowed the smile, "Well then I'll try to make it easy for you." She leant back in her chair, "I think... I shall answer every question with a question... and every statement with a statement."

The King looked at her, "Why are you playing this like a game, Liliana?"

She cocked an eyebrow, "What is it exactly in my history that suggests to you that I wouldn't?"

"Perhaps the pirate part." He answered, mildly, "Yes, I think that would suggest a certain lack of patience with games."

Lily shook her head, immediately, "Ah, but there you could not be more wrong. Take Reaver, for instance. I wouldn't be the first to say he's the most serious man in the world."

"He does not seem the humorous type to me."

She gave a mischievous smile, "Then that is because you don't have the same sense of humour."

"Is that so." He paused again, and then shook his head, "Back to Reaver again. Would you care to switch topics?"

"You don't like him much, do you?" she waved a hand, dismissively, shaking her head, "I mean, I understand he's an insufferable, murdering, despotic pirate, but, then again, some would say the same about _me_. Why do you hate him?"

He just looked at her. "Let's switch topics. Perhaps you have a question you would like to ask _me_?"

"Mmm..." she thought about it for a moment, looking at him. Then she shook her head, "Why am I here?"

He raised an eyebrow, "I believe I have already told you."

"No." she corrected, "You've told me why I am _needed_. But you haven't told me why I am here at this precise moment."

"Ah. Well. Truth be told, we were not planning on relocating you here until we were entirely ready, maybe a few weeks before our Queen's arrival. But you forced my hand."

"Mm. I wonder how."

"You cannot guess?"

She smiled, "Would I ask if I could?"

He nodded, slowly, "You were leaving, my dear. Though it would be fairly easy to track you, it is much easier to have you in one, convenient spot. So far your stay in the pirate's mansion has been quite a fortunate surprise."

She cocked an eyebrow, listening intently to his wording, "Hmm. So we're close, then."

He shook his head, immediately, "You know I cannot answer that, Liliana."

"It wasn't a question." She finished the rest of her drink, and then dropped the glass to smash on the stone floor with the plate, casually, "And you are starting to irritate me."

He paused. Then he shook his head, "Then, my apologies, Liliana. But you must realise that there are certain things I cannot tell you."

Liliana looked at him for a long time. Then she got to her feet, abruptly, turning away to the castle windows, "You have taken me from my home. I noticed the décor you placed in my _cell_, but you cannot take away that fact. You have separated me from my family, kept me here against my will, and yet you still continue with empty pleasantries." She looked back at him, "As far as I can tell, you are an intelligent man. You know exactly what you've done. You must have realised that I would _not_ be in the mood for conversation."

"We have talked pleasantly so far."

"That is because I wanted to understand you." He raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head, gesturing vaguely at her surrounding, "I am here because of you. Yet I do not understand you. I do not understand if you are evil, or simply indifferent. Both irritate me, but I have found that an amalgamation of both is even more irritating. I need to understand your motives. I do not think it much to ask to understand your captor."

"Captor?"

"You do not think of yourself as such? What would you call yourself, then?"

He sighed. Then he shook his head, "Liliana." He paused, and then got to his feet, walking towards her. Her narrowed eyes seemed to tell him exactly what she thought of this course of action, as he drew up short, not approaching her. "Liliana." He repeated, his voice soft, his amber eyes fixed on hers, "You have no idea how important you are to me."

She shook her head, "Oh, William, such sweet words you say..."

"You have no idea how special you are, how unique."

At this one she smiled, "Believe me, I'm fairly sure I have an idea."

He shook his head, "Narcissistic though you are, I do not believe you."

Lily cocked an eyebrow, "I'm narcissistic, am I? A man as full of cliché, and arrogance, and religious self-importance as yourself can hardly speak of narcissism, can he?"

William looked at her. "That was a question. Have I upset you?"

She shook her head, smirking, "Oh, William. I'm playing a _new_ game now."

Decisively, she moved towards him. She stopped in front of him and reached a hand to his face, but, oddly, he jerked back. It wasn't a flinch, exactly; it was more definite than that - one, solid movement, deliberately planned and consciously carried out. To stop her touching him.

How interesting.

Her eyes flittered over him, calculatingly, "You move backwards. Why."

William hesitated. Then he shook his head, "Due to my... condition... there are certain... side-effects."

"Condition?"

"The condition of being in between worlds." He verified, still with that tone in his voice, something like reluctance, "It can cause..."

"Side-effects." She completed, nodding, "Such as what?"

"I do not have... the ability to sense as you do. As humans do."

"How so."

"I can smell. See, hear, taste. But I cannot come into contact with a being not of my world."

She paused for a moment, looking at him, making sure she understood this, "You cannot touch me."

"It would be... inadvisable."

"What happens if you do."

Again, he hesitated, "Something... you would not wish to happen."

Lily looked at him. She thought about it. She remembered the way he waited for her to pour her blood in his hand. She remembered how, throughout the whole situation in the font room, he had never so much as laid a hand on her.

_A being not of his world_... This sort of thing had always interested her. Other worlds, occasionally coming into contact with theirs. Other realities, the places where demons and Gods hid from the unknowing world. The Void.

William was observing her. When she realigned her eyes with his, he shook his head, slowly, "You're curious."

"Will interests me." She replied, easily.

"This isn't Will. Not as you know it."

She cocked an eyebrow, "My knowledge of Will is quite substantial."

"Does it extend to before the creation of the Old Kingdom? Before the Dark Era? Before the first subsector of humanity learned to walk?" he left that for a moment, and then shook his head, "Our timelines differ, my dear Liliana."

"As, apparently, do our _capabilities_..." she moved closer towards him, and, though he eyed her position, cautiously, he did not back away this time, "You're a Blade. You can kill with a wave of your hand. You can burn out the sun, and rain fire down on the earth, but... you can't _touch_."

"The lack of touch is a... substantial barrier."

She raised an eyebrow again, this time amused, "I'll _bet_ it is... But, then again, with all your peons, who needs touch, correct? I'm sure any one of your men would fight for you, die for you... and, hell, if you asked, they'd probably help you out in some _other_ areas _too_."

William sighed, "Forever the pirate, Liliana?"

"I am not one who can be persuaded easily, _my lord_. If you have any thoughts of changing the way I behave, then I suggest you put them behind you." She looked at him for a moment, and then shook her head, "And with that I think I will take my leave."

"Liliana?" she turned back, glancing at him, expectantly. He nodded towards the full table, "You must be hungry."

"You wish me to eat, then I shall." She replied, deftly, "But not with you."

"Then I will have something taken to your room."

She nodded, "That would be an acceptable compromise, I think."

He nodded back, slowly, "Very well. I will talk to you in the morning."

Lily smiled, "I'd rather you didn't, to be honest."

"Even so. I'll talk to you in the morning."

She looked at him. There was something in his tone, something she couldn't quite read. "Why." She asked, her voice quiet.

He paused, and then shook his head, "I'll talk to you in the morning."

"More secrets." He remained silent, and she nodded, "Very well. Until then... Goodnight, _my lord_."

"Goodnight, Liliana."


	23. Hot and Cold

**Hot and Cold**

The pain was almost enough to make her sick. She pulled herself into a sitting position and then recoiled, quickly. Her muscles ached as though she'd run a mile in her sleep, and a sharp, stabbing pain was occupying her right eye, but that was the least of her problems. Her head. Her _head_.

Liliana manoeuvred herself round to the other side of the bed, pulling her legs over the side. The movement sent a shot of pain through her skull. She leant over, putting her head in her hands. A sharp, splitting pain immediately erupted through her and she gritted her teeth, forcing her breathing to slow, trying to suppress the pain. It stayed, like a dagger in her brain, and she managed a low growl of frustration.

She hadn't had a headache like this since that last time on Arcazia. A local tribe leader had jabbed her with some sort of hallucinogenic poison, mixed with a little sleeping juice. After she'd killed him, she fell into a deep sleep for over three days. When she woke up, her head hurt like bloody murder, and her vision swam like she was six feet under.

Letting out another growl, Lily forced herself to her feet. Pain and dizziness shot through her, threatening to put her straight back down again, but she forcefully kept herself upright. She grabbed hold of whatever was there, keeping herself standing, and moved towards the door, huge streams of pain jolting through her. She didn't know where she was going. She stumbled and fell to her knees, catching hold of the table beside the bed, the jar of rhododendrons clattering to the floor with a noise that made pain slam through her senses. She tried to stand, and then gave up, burying her head into her arms and breathing hard, trying to pull herself back together. She let out a low, quiet groan.

"I told you we'd be talking today."

* * *

Lily groaned again. She wanted to ignore the voice, but even soft as it was, it cut through her head like a knife.

_The King of Blades. Fantastic._

She felt and heard him move closer. Pain cut through her again. Sharp, stabbing. Like fire.

"Perhaps I should have come earlier."

She shook her head, instantly regretting it as a shot of pain blitzed through her temples, "_Stop_..._ talking_."

"Are you alright?"

She gave a small, slightly hysterical laugh, ignoring the pain it brought, "Ahh, I've had worse hangovers." She winced again, and then shook her head, slowly, "Though not by _far_..."

"Come here."

Hands took her by the shoulders, and she was too weak to fight them. She was negotiated back onto the bed, letting her head fall back into her hands. She glanced up - without moving. The King was still standing back by the door. He must have used his Will to help her upright.

She sighed, and then let her eyes fall closed, "Oh, what do you want?"

"To help." He moved closer towards her, taking out a small, round bottle and putting it down on the bedside table to her left, "Here. This is a health potion, it'll help."

Lily had downed the mixture even before he got to 'potion'. She knew a health potion when she saw one. He raised an eyebrow, but fortunately did not comment, instead bringing out another vial, again placing it on the table, "And you should take this too."

The pain was lessening. She looked at the potion. It was black, swirling round the inside of the glass like water that had just been shaken. She looked back to him, "What is it?" he hesitated, enough for her to know he was considering his answer, and Lily shook her head, immediately, "You told me you would never lie to me."

He nodded, thoughtfully, "True. But I never said I would always tell you the truth."

"That doesn't make any sense." she growled, the remnants of pain making her attitude a lot less than sunny.

"Yes it does." He corrected, easily. She frowned at him, and he shook his head, "I _won't_ lie to you, Liliana. But sometimes... I cannot tell you the whole truth. My apologies."

She paused, looking at him. Then she shook her head, "Bastard." She said, simply.

He nodded, "Perhaps. Now. Drink."

She shook her head again. She could still feel the echo of pain, even through the potion, and she growled again in frustration, "What _is_ this."

"It's a tonic."

"Not _that_, _**this**_." Lily put a hand up to her temple, pressing down, wincing, "My _head_."

He raised an eyebrow, "You've recently been dead, Liliana. A headache is only to be expected, yes?"

"Don't bullshit me, I am _far_ better at it than you." She said, sharply, keeping his eyes even though she could sense his scepticism, "Tell me the _truth_."

William watched her. Then he shook his head, "Very well. The pain is a symptom of... something that is necessary."

"What." She was losing her patience.

"You're being prepared." He specified, watching her closely as if to make sure she wasn't getting anything more than what he was saying, "Made ready. For the day my Queen comes. The pain is part of that."

She growled again, "You mean I'm going to get this every day until your damned Queen _decides_ to get here?"

He nodded, "Unless you take the tonic." There was a pause, and then he nodded at the small vial, "Please. Take it."

She didn't spare the thing a glance: "Not until you tell me what it is."

He hesitated once again, and Lily silently cursed, "It's a tonic. It'll help."

"Help _who_. Me? You? Your _Queen_?"

"All three. If you drink this, once a day, before sunrise... then future pain will be greatly diminished."

"Physical or mental?"

"Both." He clarified, "It'll make the... _transition_... a far more pleasant one. For both you _and_ my Queen."

She frowned, "Transition?"

Another hesitation. "If you take the tonic... it'll be quick."

"Then tell me what it is." She asked yet again, stubborn to the end. He just looked at her, and she shook her head, "You'll have to tell me what it is before I even _consider_ taking it. So you've nothing to lose."

There was a long silence. "It's a fortifier. It fortifies your Will."

* * *

Lily looked at him. This was... interesting... "It _strengthens_ me. For the _Queen_..." She cocked her head to one side. So he wanted his Queen a little stronger, did he? Did that mean that she could only use what powers were available, instead of what she had previously had? That would make her significantly less powerful... and a hell of a lot easier to kill.

She nodded, slowly. Suddenly, his motives for wanting her stronger made perfect sense. But very... _dangerous_. Almost as if he wasn't aware of what she was capable of... "A little risky, don't you think?"

William nodded, "A risk I am willing to take."

But Lily immediately shook her head, "No. No, I don't buy it. You don't seem like the type of man to take risks, _your majesty_. What's your failsafe?"

"Failsafe?" she stared him down until he sighed, "Very well, then. The tonic will make your Will stronger, it only follows I make the _shield_ stronger. Every day, the shield will get a little stronger, to match your... new abilities."

"But that wouldn't just affect my Will." She pointed out, swiftly, "That would alter _yours_. And that of your men."

He nodded, "A necessary sacrifice. And it wouldn't affect _all_ of my Will. Just that which is unconnected to this realm."

She jumped: "Such as what?"

His masked head cocked to one side, a small smile playing around his lips, "You are so very inquisitive."

"Such as what." She repeated, quietly.

He paused, and then shook his head, apparently indifferently, "My version of what you call Will is... complicated. It would be reduced. Considerably."

"How considerably."

"To the level of any normal Hero." He answered. Then he shook his head, "A little more, perhaps. My powers here are only so easily brought about because of the impact of a focus site below the castle's foundations. To strengthen the dampener we must inevitably weaken the focuser. I will only be able to connect with the Will that this land is capable of."

Liliana stared at him, not quite believing what she had just heard. Now _that_ levelled the playing field a bit... The level of any normal Hero? Could she beat that without Will, without any weapon of any kind?

But, wait. Mama had taught her to always look for the catch. The 'side-effects', as she called them.

"This... _focus site_." She started, slowly, "Is it connected to me too?"

He nodded, "Yes. The focus site is what is causing you pain. The longer you stay here, the more the focus site tries to increase your Will. It can be painful, if you are not ready for it. It has tapped into you now, and will not stop. Taking the tonic once a day, before daybreak, will prepare your body for the focus site's... _efforts_."

"You are expanding my Will." She clarified, eyes fixed on his yellow ones, "So... the Queen will have an... _easier passage_?"

"Correct. Her power would at the moment be too much for your body." His eyes went over her, thoughtfully, "You need to be... _stretched_, so to speak."

"And if I do not take the tonic?"

"Then the pain will increase with the passing of the days, until some time in the very near future it will become pure agony. And will also, of course, make the coming of my Queen almost unbearable." There was a pause, and then he shook his head, taking half a step towards her, "But there is no need for that. There is no reason for you not to take the tonic. It strengthens you, and has no ill effects whatsoever."

"Is that so?" Liliana looked him over. She calculated him. In the midst of her headache she had found only a robe to go over her underclothes, and, to anyone else, the way his gaze slipped so easily over her would seem obscene. But there was more. He was controlling it well, but she could see it. The way he was standing, despite his regal stance, the way he often took half-steps towards her before backing off... it all told her one thing. He wanted to touch her, his mind was _screaming_ at him to touch her, just to feel her skin under his fingertips, but he couldn't.

Perhaps he was just a man after all.

Lily looked at him. She knew how to work men. She knew what they wanted. She knew that she could easily freeze them to their place, electrify them, pick an image or a way of speaking or a turn of phrase and play it so they were completely and utterly captivated. She could do these things all too easily. What was His Majesty's weakness? Was it touch? Perhaps he was attracted to the feel of things, as so many men were - to softness, perhaps. Her skin was always soft, due partly to her breeding and partly to her lifestyle. Maybe alternating textures was more agreeable to him? Soft to rough? She could do that.

She didn't know why she was playing him like this. Why she was _considering_ playing him like this. She only knew that, if she could manipulate him, even just once - no matter how unlikely the prospect - then she would have a hell of a head's start. She'd made pirates blush, highwaymen beg, and, she was sure, even managed to surprise - and deny - the great Pirate King Reaver.

It was only fitting that the King of Blades was next on her list.

Liliana stood. His eyes moved over her again, and she waited until he had finished before taking a step forwards. His gaze did another sweep. He was... confused? This time she wasn't sure. She paused, looking at him. Then, with a burst of sudden spontaneity, she dropped the robe to the floor.

The King's eyes stayed on hers, unwavering. She moved forwards to him, swiftly, stopping less than a foot away from him, "You want this body?"

For once his control seemed to break. He paused, and then his eyes moved down, over her, expressionless, taking in her almost naked frame with an intense attention to detail. "Yes." He said, finally.

"Then you will have to take it by force." She paused, and then shook her head, turning her back, moving over to the vanity table, "I will not surrender myself to your will. Not without a fight."

"Fighting has hurt you before." He said, softly.

She spun back to him, "It's kept me _alive_ before. And it will do so again."

William watched her. His eyes moved down again, and she could feel the desire for touch waken up again.

"Have a care where your eyes linger, your majesty," she said, finally, eyes locked on his, "You'll make a lady blush." She retrieved the copy of her red dress from the wardrobe, slipping it on as easily as she had in front of Reaver.

When she turned back, he returned his gaze to hers, "You are beautiful. Is it wrong for one's eyes to be drawn to beauty?"

"Hardly. But we must remember social confines, mustn't we?"

"Must we." He paused, and she watched with interest as he made the first move forwards. He raised a hand to her face and brushed the air less than an inch away from her skin, looking her over, thoughtfully, "My Queen will look so beautiful in you..." he lowered his hand, looking her seriously in the eyes, "Lily."

"It's _Liliana_ to you."

"Liliana. You will be the catalyst for a new world."

"A world of pain and blood." She replied, easily, "One of which I would not care to see existing anywhere outside of the Void."

"We have changed since we scorched this place. We have grown, adapted. We could help here, make it better."

"Hmm, and yet I've noticed you've failed to observe that in doing this I would be sentencing myself to death." She took a single step away from him, her eyes cold, "Forgive me if I don't seem quite as enthusiastic."

He sighed, "You do not fail to see the bigger picture, Liliana. You just reject it. But enough of this. You are trying to distract me." He moved away, and picked up the vial on the table again, moving back to her, "Please, Liliana. Consider taking the tonic."

She looked at him. Then down at the tonic, "Even if I _did_ feel the desire to 'end my suffering'... why should I believe you? Who knows what this thing will do - maybe you've decided it will be easier if I were asleep for the transition of your Queen? Maybe you've decided to drug me? Maybe this will make things worse, why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm telling the truth."

"I don't believe you."

"You should." His eyes moved down to her lips, confirming Liliana's suspicion that he liked his textures soft, "I'd never lie to you. You have my word."

She cocked an eyebrow, "How reassuring." She took the bottle from him with two fingers, so close that she knew he could feel the warmth from her skin but careful not to touch, torturing him, and then placed it gently back onto the table. She nodded at the door, "I think it's time you left, don't you?"

He watched her. "It hurts." He said, slowly, "It hurts a lot."

"Is that so." She replied, indifferently.

He paused again. Then he shook his head, "You will take the tonic eventually, given time. When the pain becomes too much to handle." He leant towards her again, "But, Liliana, if I could spare you that I would. Let me spare you that." She stayed silent. He waited for a response, and then shook his head, retreating back to the door. "Kenton will bring you a glass each day. Then you can choose what to do with it."

She nodded, thoughtfully, "That would be very useful indeed. I believe the rhododendrons need watering."

He paused at the door. Then he bowed his head, bid her farewell, and left without another word.

* * *

Liliana watched the closed door for a moment. Her head still ached a little, and, by the way it was going, it was clear that the second the potion wore off it'd be a splitting migraine again. She thought back over her second private conversation with a man more demon than human. Her reactions to him had been calculated. Cool and hospitable, friendly and hostile. Hot and cold. She smiled, returning to her bed, as she remembered the reactions she had carefully gauged. Perhaps alternating textures was more his thing after _all_...


	24. Bigger Pictures

**Bigger Pictures**

Her skin was covered in old blood. The low flames of the candles outside the barred door sent flickering light over her pale skin, illuminating the dull rust-red smears, coated by the newer, shinier liquid on top. You could easily tell which was fresh; simply moving her arm around in the semi-darkness sent rays of reflection shining off the new blood, like honey in the sun.

Jaina closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the grimy stone wall. The sharpest pain having faded, she was still the most uncomfortable she'd ever been, her muscles raw and aching from their host's 'games', but, most of all, she felt... _unclean_. She looked down at herself again. She had no idea how long she'd been in this cage - their host's little 'visits' had taken care of that - and, after the pain had left, and then the boredom, she had started to become keenly aware of just how much blood covered her already filthy skin, the rust-red liquid crusting in her white hair. She'd give her next three lives for a bath right about now...

The increasing level of flickering on the walls should have warned her, but Jaina still felt a sort of surprised resignation when the giggling started. She closed her eyes, letting out a low sigh. Avo, not again.

The echoes and the general ethereal nature of the situation made it sound as if the noise were coming from behind her, despite her head and back already leaning against the ever-so-solid wall. She leant back a little further, taking in a slow, stabilising breath.

"Sparrow."

She ignored it, still keeping her eyes firmly shut.

"_Sparrow_..."

The light, playful voice was followed by a twinkling laugh that raised goosebumps on her skin.

"Sparrow, don't you want to play?"

A shiver went through her, automatically, despite her attempt to guard against it. The thing laughed again, and, slowly, she forced herself to open her eyes.

As usual, the cell in front of her was empty.

Jaina got to her feet, hands stabilising her against the wall behind her. She paused, looking around her, cautiously, "Puck?"

The thing returned a laugh, and she flinched, twitching round to try and tell where it had come from. Even as her eyes flittered over the shadows on the floor, she knew it was impossible. "Puck? You there?"

"I've got something for you."

She spun round, finally spotting the spirit against the wall she had been standing against. She backed off a few steps, quickly, looking the shadow over. He dropped her a quirky bow, hands held behind his back, a shadow-hood covering his shadow-face.

Jaina's eyes dropped to his hands, or what she could see of them, and then flickered quickly back to his 'face', "Puck... Hi..."

The spirit laughed, and then danced off a few steps, laughing again at her reflexive cringe, hands still behind his back.

'What you got there?' would have been an appropriate question for her to ask, but Jaina wasn't one to tempt fate, and she had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't leave her waiting for long.

She was right. Puck crept forwards, slowly, cocking his head to one side before slowly bringing out his hands, complete with a large metal carafe.

_Water_.

She leapt for it, immediately, but he whirled back, laughing, keeping it out of reach. He shook the bottle, mischievously. Jaina let out a growl of frustration, and he laughed again.

She gritted her teeth, hard, and shook her head, "Goddamn it, Puck. C'mon."

He shook his head, playfully, like you would to a child, and held out a finger. She swore, viciously, and he giggled again. He started uncapping the bottle, taking a pretend sip and then bringing it down, shaking his head, mockingly.

"Puck, come on, don't be like this..." she dropped her voice, continuing on a mutter, "you little incorporeal bastard..."

Puck pulled back, feigning shock and hurt, clasping a hand over the place where his heart would be if he wasn't just an amalgamation of harvested souls. Ghostly claws dug deep into the top of the decanter, pulling it apart, deftly, and tossing half the busted metal out through the prison cell bars, where it clattered loudly on the stone floor.

She watched, cautiously. Her throat was already on fire from the strain of however the hell many days she'd gone without food or water, but now she only felt the pain that more keenly. She took half a step forwards and Puck swung back again, this time jumping back up against the wall, perching easily in the top corner like he was a damned spider.

He tossed the metal container from hand to hand, playfully, giggling a little. Then he stopped, and looked down on her.

Jaina frowned at him, starting to feel even more cautious, "Puck?"

He cocked his head to one side, watching her.

"_Puck_?" the thing just giggled, and shook the decanter again, meaningfully. She shook her head, slowly, realisation spreading slowly over her, "No. No no no, _bad_ Puck. Let it g- _Damn_ it!" the malicious little thing dumped the carafe on her head, soaking her with what she now realised was _freezing_ cold water. She staggered back a step, cursing viciously while the thing laughed. She aimed a wild swing at him, which of course missed, shaking her sopping hair out of her eyes, "_Get_ the hell out of here!"

Puck skittered away with an impish giggle, and Jaina gave a low growl, turning her back on the bars to smash her hands savagely into the nearest wall, "_WILLIAM_! Face me yourself, you coward! You send a _nymph_ to _kick_ me while I'm down?!"

"He came on his own."

* * *

Jaina glanced up, sharply. Warde stood by the bars, looking at her, giving a small, apologetic smile, "We didn't send him. Sorry."

She heaved a weary sigh, settling back down onto the floor, letting the freezing drops spread over her unheeded, "Oh, you. What d'you want now."

"To see you." He replied, as if the answer were obvious - which she supposed it was, "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

She shot him a scathing glance, "Oh, are we playing doctors now?" he didn't reply, and she shook her head, disgustedly, "Get the hell outta here, Warde."

"No."

She sighed, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes, "Then shut up. I'm trying to sleep."

"I was hoping to talk."

She sighed again, still not looking at him, "Then go talk to Puck, I'm sure it'll be just as productive."

Warde gave a small laugh, and she heard the familiar screech of the chair he so often pulled to just outside her cell's bars, "I'm sure I'm just as distasteful of that thing's presence as you are."

"Then why don't you got directly to your King and petition his expulsion?"

"How do you see that ending?"

She smiled, grimly, and looked up, catching his violet eyes, "Well, either A: your King listens to you, and chucks little Puck back into the netherworld. Or, B: your King decides he's _not_ going to listen to you, and instead chucks _you_ back into the netherworld." She gave him another smile, "Either way, I win."

He nodded, thoughtfully, "I suppose you do. Perhaps I shouldn't trouble his majesty with my... issues."

"_Issues_?" she repeated, sceptically, "You do realise you're in the King of Blades' castle? Something tells me that an incorporeal pain-in-the-backside is the _least_ of your problems..."

"Perhaps so." He looked at her for a moment, and then shook his head, "But enough about Puck. Let's talk about you."

"No." she replied, bluntly, keeping her voice bored and completely uninterested.

Warde sighed, "You realise you've been here almost a month, yes? You've yet to say a word about yourself."

_A __**month**__?_ Jaina's head immediately reeled, but she kept her expression blank, "Maybe I'm still holding a grudge about the whole 'kidnapped and taken prisoner' thing. I think that just about accounts for my lack of loquacity as of late..."

"Then perhaps we can trade?"

She smiled a little at this, grimly, "Warde, how can you trade when you have nothing I want?"

He shrugged, "Well. Maybe you've got some questions you'd like to ask too?"

"I've only got _one_. Why is my daughter taking so long to _kill_ you bastards."

"Well, I'm not your daughter, but I would guess it's because she's unarmed, alone, and in pain."

Jaina managed an appropriate retort: "That makes two of us, then." Then she paused for a moment. She knew his words had been deliberate - little Warde did ever _wasn't_ - but she couldn't stop herself from giving the expected response: "I thought... you said you wouldn't need to hurt her."

"We're not. She's hurting _herself_."

She snorted, "That option seems more likely." Another pause. She was digging her tattered nails into her skin. "Why. How."

"I thought you didn't want to talk?" she gritted her teeth, guarding herself against him asking her for something... unpleasant... but he just shook his head and leant closer to the bars, locking his eyes with hers, "Just talk to me, Sparrow, and I will answer any questions I can."

"We're talking _now_." She replied through a locked jaw, danger and warning flooding through her tone, "Answer my question."

He looked at her, and then shook his head, "There is... something she needs to take. A medicine. You don't need the specifics."

"Yes I do."

"No, you don't." he replied, just as firmly. She cocked an eyebrow, coolly, but he seemed not to notice: "This medicine will stop her from the pain this castle causes her."

"Pain the _castle_ causes her?" she repeated, sceptically.

"Again - you don't need the specifics."

"So she has to take the medication to not be in pain." Jaina thought for a moment, keeping his eyes, "Why haven't you made her take it?"

Warde cocked an eyebrow, "Is that what you wish us to do?"

She shook her head, "Let's just suppose I'm playing devil's advocate. Why haven't you made her take it."

He paused, and then nodded his head towards the left, towards what she had always assumed were the prison stairs, "His Lord decided it was unnecessary. That she would take the potion eventually without force."

"Why." He didn't answer. Jaina shook her head, frustratedly, and then stopped, looking at the wall. Her heart was throbbing a little, and, though she knew what she so wanted to say, she knew she couldn't. She couldn't.

"There's a reason." She said instead, quietly, "There's _always_ a reason with Lily. What is it."

He shrugged, "Pride? You'd have to ask her."

"Then _let_ me."

"No." was the immediate answer.

She gritted her teeth again, "I'm the only one who can get through to her. Without me, you've got no chance."

Warde glanced at her, almost surprised, "Are you offering to help us, Sparrow?"

"I'm offering to help _Lily_." she corrected, firmly. Then she hesitated, and shook her head, "If... if this thing will help her... if it's not... If it... _just_... _helps_ her... then I can convince her to take it."

"His Lord considered it. But, unfortunately, he believes that, if you talked with your daughter, you might change your mind."

Of course. Of course it wasn't as simple as that, as simple as he'd made it sound. "When I learned the _'specifics'_."

He nodded, "Quite. You might make things worse."

"Worse than her not taking them?" she asked, sceptically, "How?"

"By confirming that she shouldn't. As she is... she'll take them eventually. We don't want her given any sort of..."

"Emotional support?"

"Detrimental guidance." he finished, mildly.

She smiled, grimly, "Ah. So I'm a bad influence now, am I? Good."

Warde sighed, settling back on his chair and fixing his eyes on hers, "Sparrow. Surely you can see the consequences of fighting us?"

"Yep."

"But you would carry on regardless."

"Oh yes." he looked at her. She looked straight back. "I'm not afraid of you, Warde. _None_ of us are. Not me, Lily, Reaver... not even _Norman_, and he's a damned _butler_."

"You're assuming we haven't killed them." He pointed out, cocking an eyebrow.

"That's fair, I suppose. For Norman, perhaps. But your King said... what was it? 'His is new magic to us'." she shook her head, mockingly, "He wouldn't have allowed Reaver killed, Warde. Not while he was so 'interesting'."

"It is not he that interests us. But he will lead us to those who do."

"Oh?" she asked, casually, "And who is that?"

"The Shadow Court."

* * *

Jaina leant her head back against the wall, slowly, "And how would you know that?"

Warde shook his head, "It was a story, when Liliana was a child. The story of the Pirate King. The immortal man who doesn't age and doesn't die, even when all around him fall to his... 'skill'. The man who traded his soul for his body."

"The Don Juan."

"Precisely." Warde looked around the dungeon walls, his eyes following the stone, "The Court said they would come for him when the sacrifices stopped." he paused, and then looked back to her, "We are willing to wait."

"You're feeding him to the Shadow Court." she said, scarlet eyes fixed on his. She knew well the feel of the Court's... _disapproval_, so to speak, and she also knew that part of her would be most satisfied should Reaver finally find out exactly what he'd been inflicting on people these last few centuries.

But a larger part of her was screaming that it was not enough.

"Is that a disappointment for you?" Warde asked, mildly.

"It's an annoyance." she replied, a bite in her tone, "The biggest you've thrown my way so far." then she paused, and shook her head, "_But_... perhaps I could warm to the idea over time. I mean... technically it _is_ my fault he's here..."

"I suppose there is that." he paused, and then cocked his head to one side, watching her, "Why do you want to kill him so much?"

"Why are you so interested in the Court of Shadows?" he didn't reply, and Jaina shook her head, "You wanted to talk, but I'm not saying one word about me. I thought you'd have got that by now. So if you're thinking that getting me talking about Reaver, or your King, or _Liliana_ is gunna get me to open up, then you're wrong. So you might as well answer my questions."

"Why do you care?" he asked, calmly.

"Because ever since I met them I've been wondering. And now you lot have come back from the grave, it's got me wondering even more."

"What are you asking?"

She cocked her head, deciding to play along, "The Shadow Court... the Court of Blades... both with three members - give or take... both ancient powers... and both with, shall we say, slightly despicable political proclivities?" she shook her head, "You can't deny the similarities. I've always wondered."

"I'm sure you have." Warde looked at her for a long time, and then shook his head, "Those answers are not for mortal ears."

"Tell me or don't, but don't play it off as too '_otherworldly_' for my comprehension." she replied, sharply, "Are the two related."

"The Court was long ago. Why do you worry yourself with things that happened long before your kind have chosen to remember?"

"Well generally the appearance of the King of Blades on your doorstep changes your perspectives about things, especially ancient history."

Warde raised an eyebrow, "What do you know of the Old Kingdom?"

"Or the time before it?" she shrugged, "Little. Save the stories."

"Stories of Heroes."

"No. Stories of demons. Demons slain by a sword of blood."

He nodded, thoughtfully, "The Sword of Aeons. A beautiful blade."

"How would you know?" he didn't reply, and she shook her head, "The Sword of Aeons was lost _millennia_ ago. There's no substantial proof that it even _existed_."

"And how would you know that."

She leant towards him, "I'm not called Blade for nothing... _sir_. If there's a legendary weapon I haven't heard of then it's not worth knowing about."

Warde thought for a moment. Then he shifted in his chair, "The Sword of Aeons was destroyed... by _your_ ancestor."

She nodded, "The Hero of Oakvale. Yes. I know. I've done a bit of research of my own."

"And what did you find?"

"Nothing substantial. There is only rumours. No-one alive knew what happened behind those gates. And the outcome was, strangely, undocumented. The Hero of Oakvale went through the gates to do battle with the great dragon... and then was never seen again." then she shook her head, conceding: "But, then, of course, neither was the _dragon_. It could all be taken so many ways."

"Killing a dragon is an extraordinary feat."

"Very. Almost a shame they're extinct nowadays."

"A shame indeed." he watched her for a moment, and then shook his head, "How long have you known?"

"That I am descended from one of the greatest men of the Heroic Era? I found out years ago."

"Liliana didn't."

She glanced at him, her name on his lips sending prickles of anger over her skin. "She's not stupid, I'm sure she's guessed."

"You never talked to her about it?"

She raised an eyebrow, "What business is that of yours?"

"You don't think she deserves to know what she is?" he argued, softly.

"_What_ she is?" she repeated, her anger getting the better of her for a moment, "_Who_ she is." Warde didn't reply, and she watched him for a second, frowning, "Is there a reason you talk about my daughter that way?"

He paused for a long time. "Your daughter is... complicated."

"_Complicated?_ She's your future _Queen_, whether you like it or not." He just looked at her. Slowly, she got to her feet, still staring at him. She was going through everything she knew about him, every conversation they'd ever had, every glance he'd ever thrown her way, this time honing in on something specific: Liliana.

"You've... always talked about her like that." she said, finally, eyes still fixed on his, "As if you... knew. Did you know she was going to be the one?"

"No."

He wasn't lying. She _thought._ But then what was it? What was that... was it _distaste_? He'd always been different with her, always talking to her first, ignoring Lily within a inch of his life, and even when he _did_ acknowledge her he was so... glacial. Almost _intense_. Calling her 'pirate' and 'little girl', his voice so short with her, so cold.

"Does it disgust you?" she asked, genuinely curious, genuinely wanting an answer, "The Queen being in her body?" he didn't reply, and she shook her head, frustrated, moving closer to the bars, "_What_ is your _angle_? If you've got problems with the way this is going, _Warde_, may I remind you that I'm not exactly over the moon about it _myself_. You wanna complain, go have a chat with your _master_, _not_ _me_."

"Your daughter is complicated." he merely repeated.

She grabbed hold of the bars, "_How_. _How_ is she complicated."

No reply.

Jaina let out a low growl and immediately fell to her knees, getting herself to his level, hands still attached to the bars, "Tell me, Warde. You used her blood for the ritual. Why. You said _her_ blood was needed, not mine."

"It was random."

She shook her head, impatiently, "It was _not_. Could you have picked either of us? Why her? What do you have against her?"

Warde paused for a long time. Then he shook his head. "It was not her."

"No?"

"No. It was you."

* * *

Jaina stared at him, "_Me_?"

He nodded, "You."

She paused, watching him. Then she shook her head, "Why."

"Your blood is... tainted."

"My blood's _what_?"

"Tainted." He seemed to try to explain: "The Shadow Court... the deaths... we don't know what that did to you. It could hurt my Queen."

She shook her head again, sceptically, "And we wouldn't want _that_, now _would_ we." then she thought for a second, "Is this... is this why Liliana was chosen? Is that why the Queen picked her, because I was fucking _damaged stock_? _Tell_ me!"

"There were many reasons why your daughter was chosen," he replied, evenly, "Many of which are beyond either of our understanding."

Jaina stood, anger burning through her, "Why do you hate her."

Warde rose to match her height, violet eyes flashing with an emotion she couldn't calculate, "I don't hate your daughter, Sparrow."

"Then why do you treat her the way you do?"

"Your daughter is -"

"If you say 'complicated' I will hurt you." she said, coldly.

He cocked an eyebrow, "Is that a promise?"

Sparrow gave a bark of a laugh, spinning away from the bars for a moment. She shook her head, scathingly, and then turned back, "_The Hero appeals to me._"

Warde just looked at her, hearing his own words, no emotion on his face.

She shook her head again, letting her disgust show clear, "You're not getting away with that, Warde. _Trust_ me. Just like you're not going to get away with hurting my daughter."

Warde frowned, "I have no intention of -"

"I don't _care_ what you _intend_ to do." she snapped, viciously, "I know men like you well, Warde, and I know exactly where all this pent-up hate of yours is going to lead. You just stay the hell away from her, do you understand?"

Her prison guard watched her, closely. Then a small smirk slid over his lips, "And just what are you going to do to stop me?"


	25. Complicated

Heyyyy. Damn, this chapter's taken me ages. But with FI finished I'm gunna concentrate on this one until I get it done, so it shouldn't be so long between updates this time. Sorry xx

* * *

**Complicated**

Her newest attempt stormed out of her room, shutting the door behind him with a little too much force, and Liliana cursed, halfheartedly. Well, it had been worth a shot. And it would be worth it again. She couldn't believe that _every_ man in this hell would be so resistant to a well-practised touch. Perhaps the King had made it clear exactly what would happen to those who dared to... _get to know her a little better_, so to speak. If so, he'd made her job harder, but not impossible.

But she still didn't know why he'd even bothered. It wasn't exactly like he was striving to protect her 'purity'... even _he_ couldn't be _that_ stupid. Besides, even if the one man that happened to be susceptible to her charms happened to be the one man who could get her out of the castle, surely William knew that there was nowhere for her to go? She had no idea where she was, and they were surrounded by a damned ocean, with a damned mountain on one side!

Lily sat back down by her dresser, and began to think this through again. She'd be damned if she was going to be defeated by physical ability alone. Her mother's line had hardly been quitters, and she wasn't going to be the first to introduce failure into the family traits.

But it was so hard to think with a headache like this.

Lily leant her head against the desk. The only person inside that she'd managed to even _begin_ to manipulate was Kenton, and that was only by subtly convincing him to bring her a few potions to counteract that damned focus site. What was _more_ frustrating was that she was fairly sure even _that_ move had been sanctioned by his _highness_; she couldn't even pull the strings of a _kid_, for Avo's sake! What the hell was _wrong_ with her?

Okay, so maybe it was more psychological. She had the drive, yes, but she knew there was only so much a person could handle, even a person as resilient as herself.

And, _Avo_, was she tired.

Liliana made herself get to her feet. It was difficult, and painful, but that only made her more determined, growling incoherently at herself, recalling days standing on decks in horrendous storms - and she damned sure hadn't given up _then_. She had to get out of here, even for a little while... She stumbled, but caught hold of the dresser to keep herself upright, and had a good look at her reflection.

"Death." She diagnosed, shaking her head, and reached a hand out to grab a pot of face powder, attacking her face viciously. She hadn't eaten in days, and, even with her usually porcelain-pale skin, she was looking particularly pallid today. No wonder that guard had fled like he was being chased by a rabid balverine...

Lily looked herself over again. She'd raided the dresser that contained copies of her old clothes, and pulled on a white shirt and black trousers, along with a leather waist cincher pulled tight with black buckles. All that along with her balverine-tooth necklace she'd found tucked away in a drawer, and she almost felt _normal_ again. Maybe that was the point. Relaxing her into a false sense of security? But he couldn't think she was that foolish, could he?

_Stop over-analysing,_ she scolded herself, wearily, _Avo, just for once. It doesn't matter why he did it if he doesn't get what he wants._

She forced herself to straighten up, wobbling a little but keeping her footing. Lily silently blessed her own foresight - she'd put on flats the second she saw that the potion she'd taken would not last for long - and swiftly moved over to the door. She had to get out of this room before she started clawing at the walls. Liliana was not one who enjoyed enclosed spaces, not when the open deck called to her so strongly, the crash of waves and sea-salt spray rejuvenating even the most tired body, the most worn muscles.

Perhaps she could find a room with a view of the ocean.

She put her hand on the door, trying to get out before her head could object.

However, she wasn't expecting her mind would take over on the argumentative front.

She didn't want to go outside. She had no idea what was out there in terms of structure and rooms and objects, but she knew exactly who was out there in terms of people - if those Blade-loving bottom-feeders could be called such a word. It was not in her nature, but pain and disorientation had kicked her inner soul down into her stomach, and all her brain wanted to do was to stay here and hide.

_A Queen doesn't hide_. She thought, wryly, and she gave a small, grim smile. Then she pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Time to go exploring.

* * *

Exploring a castle, Liliana found, was not nearly as exciting as her childhood had led her to believe. It was all cold, grey stone, and mostly, to her great annoyance, locked doors. She tried the next door on her right at random, finding it again locked. Though, of course, she only _assumed_ that they were locked. They had no key holes of any kind, didn't even have _doorknobs_, but when she pushed them, or dug her nails in hard and pulled, they didn't open. All except hers. Hers had a doorknob and a key hole on the outside. But not on the inside.

Lily managed to force that thought away, instead thinking through everything all she knew about castles. The keep, the smithy, the barbican, the atrium, the armoury, the barracks... the dungeons... She had no idea what was real, which parts of the tales she had read were fact and which were just fiction.

Frustration and a spark of extra pain in her temple made her swing round to the left and tap quickly up a spiral staircase, one hand brushing across the cold stone wall. The third floor was somewhere she'd never stepped foot in, as far as she could remember, and she was surprised to find, instead of the forever twining corridors full of doors, this floor seemed almost empty, with a large, spacious hall in the middle, and only a few scattered doors around the walls.

One of which had a door handle.

She veered towards it immediately. If it had a lock, that would be even better. She would put up with _anything_ right now, so long as it had a possibility. Okay, so the possibility of her suddenly being able to pick locks was... rather slim, but it was much higher than suddenly being able to open magically sealed doors. She tried the handle out of reflex, not at all expecting it to be unlocked.

When it turned and she felt the latch easily click out of place, she stayed completely still for a moment, for a moment not realising what had just happened. Then she immediately took a step back and threw the door open.

* * *

For just a moment, Liliana's breath froze in her throat as she looked over the frankly quite beautiful sight. Panelled wood covered these walls just like hers, but the wood here was a deep, dark burgundy, painted with a gloss, and shaped around the walls in a circle, so the ceiling dipped in towards the sides, high in the centre.

Liliana took a few steps inside, having to duck slightly to avoid banging her head. The room in front of her was intoxicating, bright reds and yellows, warm oranges and golds, reminding her of a sunset, or a warm summer's evening. There was a thin, raggedy carpet covering bare floorboards, and almost-worn furniture scattered over it, a rocking chair, a bookcase covered in old, weathered books, a mattress directly on the floor. Her hand stroked over something that hung from the ceiling, feathers and other bits and pieces tied together with cotton, and she closed her eyes, slowly, taking in a long breath. She could smell wood smoke, and old, old perfume, mixed with a flower she recognised. A small, appreciative murmur purred through her throat. The scent pleased her for a reason she wasn't yet aware of.

Her fingers moved, gently, stroking across what she realised was the head of a flower. She opened her eyes, looked at it, brushing her fingertips over the delicate, velvet flute. The flowers decorated the walls, adorning them with a smooth, intricate wallpaper. Blood red honeysuckle.

_Mama's favourite flowers._

The thought barely registered in her mind, but, as her hand reached for a brown, clay bowl sat on one of the counters lining the back wall, she frowned, her eyes taking in the room around her in a little more detail. Panelled wood. Flowers. Baskets of fruit and bright, dyed fabrics. She looked down at the bowl in her hands, the simple, fire-burnt clay bowl, engraved simply with 'Boy'.

This was Sparrow's caravan.

"_There_ you are."

* * *

For the first time, he succeeded in startling her, enough that she dropped the clay plate to the floor, where it cracked into several pieces at her feet.

Lily looked down. Then back up, catching the demon's yellow eyes.

The King of Blades looked at her, seriously, "You could've caught that."

She paused for a moment, and then shrugged, casually, leaning down to pick up the pieces, "So kill me."

She placed the pieces neatly into the cracked shell, and then placed it down slowly on the counter, her hands staying on it just a moment longer than necessary.

"So you've found it." He said, slowly. She turned back to him, and he raised an eyebrow, "Thoughts?"

"The door was unlocked, you knew I would find this eventually." She replied, quietly, keeping her voice even.

He nodded, "The possibility had occurred, yes."

"_The possibility had occurred_?" she repeated, sceptically, "The _door_ was _unlocked_. You gave me permission to go into every room in the castle, so long as the door was unlocked. You knew I'd find it, you _wanted_ me to find it." She waved a vague hand at her surroundings, taking half a step towards him, "You wanted me to know it was simple luck that I was picked, that there would be no effect to you whatsoever if the tables happened to have been the other way round."

He nodded again, slowly, "So you're angry."

"Angry. Frustrated. _Despairing_." She paused, and then shook her head, "All those... _remarkably_ futile emotions." He raised an eyebrow, and she smirked, "My apologies. I am not one for melodrama. All this room does, _William_, is prove to me what I already knew was fact. Flip of the coin. Daughter or mother, mother or daughter, it made no difference. And it makes absolutely no difference whatsoever to me. If you thought this would affect me, then you are sadly mistaken."

"Apart from the connection." He replied, smoothly.

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

"If the room caused you so much anger - or, as you claim, apathy - then you would have left it by now. But you haven't. Because this is your mother's room."

"This is my mother's _cell_." She corrected, coldly, "It's nothing but a _copy_. I'm sure Mama would find this place as soulless as I find your _Seraphim_."

He cocked an eyebrow, "You don't appreciate a taste of home?"

Evil or indifferent? She tilted her head slightly to one side, trying to figure it out. That violet mask of his could hardly be the cause of her confusion; it barely covered any of his face, just the top of his head, really. She should be able to read him, from his eyes, from his mouth.

But she couldn't.

"A taste is just a taste." She replied, quietly, "_This_... this is a _copy_. A _mockery_." She looked around her, a little guardedly, "I'm willing to bet none of this is original. Just like the Seraphim."

"Well. I'm hoping to change that."

He took a few steps towards the wall, conjuring up another of those damned unbreakable cases from thin air.

Lily watched him closely. She almost took a step forwards as his eyes moved off her, just the slightest amount of increased pressure on her left foot, but rethought the move as he glanced back at her, and stayed where she was.

But then he took a long-bladed sword from somewhere within his violet robes, and she couldn't help shifting slightly forwards. "The final piece." He said, eyes moving over to hers.

"The Daichi." Lily stated, emotionlessly, watching as he placed it inside the cabinet and shut the glass door. "My mother's blade. I thought it was lost in the shipwreck." She stepped forwards, allowing him to become accustomed to her movement, brushing over the glass with a finger, "Or is this simply another copy?"

"No, it is the original. We recovered it."

She nodded, thoughtfully, "I did wonder. And my cutlass?"

"Was retrieved too, yes."

She gave a small, dry smile, "For the person that caused that shipwreck, you seem awfully keen to reverse the effects of it. Can you bring my men back, too?"

William looked at her, "I'm afraid not."

She nodded again, paused, and then shook her head, taking a few steps back, "Ah well. Worth a try..."

"Do you miss them?" he asked, abruptly, his voice still soft and still indifferent.

She let her eyes meet his, and forced her heartbeat to calm, "I may be wrong... but I'm fairly sure that's none of your business." He raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head at his apparent lack of understanding, "Even if you _weren't_ the one to kill them - which you were - you must surely realise that question is a little... _inflammatory_, shall we say?"

William nodded, slowly, "Perhaps. I still wish to know."

"Then how about this - many were good men, several were good friends, most were good sailors, and _all_ are now _dead_." She calmed her voice, hearing the sharp note in it easily, "You killed them."

"Puck killed them."

She snapped her eyes to his, this flare of anger too much to ignore, "Don't make that distinction. Puck is your arm. A weapon doesn't decide who to kill, the wielder does." She looked away, and once again fought for control, "I may as well blame my gun for every person I kill."

She could feel his eyes on her face, "I've upset you."

She looked up, shaking her head, sceptically, "Oh, come, William. We both know I'm not capable of being 'upset'. I just get _pissed_."

"I think you are capable." He took a few steps towards her, and she tensed, "And I think you put on this hard shell to protect yourself."

"Don't romanticise me, Blade." She warned, quietly, "People have tried. I'm sorry to say I never met their expectations."

"You're sorry?"

"Not for them."

"Then for who?" he was close to her now. Very close.

Close enough. "Their widows." She replied, and immediately lashed out.

* * *

The man she had started referring to as 'the Pretender of Blades' was fast. He immediately put up a hand, and Lily found herself frozen still, an invisible hand around her throat, the sharpest splinter piece of the simple, fire-burnt clay bowl clutched tight in her hand.

"Not much of a fair player, are you?" she managed, battling with the force holding her still, trying to continue the shard's trajectory deep into his neck.

William looked at her, "Says the pirate..."

"It wouldn't even have _hurt_."

"Then why make an effort?"

If she had full control of her body, she would have shrugged, "There's always the challenge."

He nodded, thoughtfully. Then he shook his head, "Let's put that down, shall we?" she regained control of her hand, and, after a moment, she dropped the shard to the floor. William nodded, satisfied, and crunched the shard into splinters with one stamp of his violet boot.

He let her go completely, and she ducked down, moving back a little. Her hand went up to her throat, glancing him over, distastefully, as she felt out the damage.

William's eyes were on her hand, cut open from the tight hold she'd had on the pottery, "You're bleeding."

She glanced up at him, "And you'll let me bleed. If I can't even _bleed_ on my own command then there's not much point living, is there?"

He nodded, as if conceding to her the point, and didn't try to heal her. He looked at her again, "You seem particularly... _unstable_ today."

She shook her head, eyes on the floor, "Forgive me. Had a nightmare."

"Oh?"

She looked up, "I cut your head off. It grew back. It was really quite disturbing... But enjoyable, of course."

"Is that so."

Liliana just looked at him. She really hadn't expected the move to work. She'd figured out long ago that this man's Will far outstretched hers. But the attempt had been worth it, even if just to show him that she wasn't going to take this lying down. It had been worth it, despite the pain that echoed through her palm, and now her head.

She winced a little, and his eyes glued onto it, almost concerned, "You're in pain."

"For some reason, my head only seems to ache when _you're_ around." She replied, slowly, "As someone trained in medicine, I would suggest you remedy that immediately."

He cocked an eyebrow, "You're trained in medicine?"

She shrugged, "I've screwed a doctor. He liked to talk. It's practically the same thing."

William looked at her for a long time. Then he shook his head, turning slightly away from her, "You need to take the tonic."

She shook her head, immediately, "That's not going to happen."

"If not for your own sake, then for your mother's."

"And just what is that supposed to mean." She replied, instantly, refusing to let anything this monster said throw her.

"She loves you. The one thing she asks for? You. She doesn't want you hurt."

She smirked, shaking her head, "Ah, we both pain for each other. Rather easy considering we have no idea how the other fares. And you use that against us. I bet you have Warde tell my mother the exact same. I mean, the only reason I'm suffering is so you won't hurt dear fragile Jaina, correct?"

"Why _are_ you suffering?"

"To annoy you." The answer was quite obvious, after all.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely positive."

"She believes you're suffering to protect her pride. She believes _herself_ to be suffering so that _you_ do not suffer."

Liliana laughed, "I doubt the Hero of Albion would be so obtusely _wrong_. She knows the system, knows that it was the luck of the draw I was picked instead of her. Nothing either of us can do will effect that option." She paused, and then shook her head, "If it were as easy as that, I would have done it long ago."

"As would she, no doubt, were it the other way round. She would not leave you a choice."

"Then perhaps she should realise that I am in fact no longer a child, and am perfectly capable of making that decision myself." She replied, firmly. Then she sighed, "I am my mother's daughter, but a pirate, also. And I will not be outmatched by her."

"Do you think she'd rather be here?" he asked, softly, "In your place. Rather than... where she is at the moment?"

"Being forced to exchange pleasantries with your friend _Warde_?" she completed, shrewdly, sharply. She hesitated, and then shook her head, slowly, "It is... not something I wish to discuss."

The very thought of it burnt fire straight through her. But what exactly could she do? What she had said before was right. Flip of the coin, daughter or mother, mother or daughter, how the hell was she supposed to beat _chance_?

"You're sure?" his voice sent needles pricking under her skin, making her bristle with anger, and she tried hard to keep her face blank. "I know you're angry, Liliana. How _couldn't_ you be." He took a step towards her, and her hands tightened reflexively into fists, "But... you're saving her. Aren't you? By doing this for her... you're keeping her alive. Right?"

"_Enough_ of this," she snarled, suddenly, "What do you _want_ from me. What do you want me to _say_. That I should have _protected_ her? That she should have protected _herself_? _What do you want me to say_?"

William looked at her for a moment. "I've never seen you so... agitated."

"You threatened my mother." She replied, sharply. He raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head, "Oh, not in so many _words_, but you still threatened her." She took in a long breath, calming herself once again, "My weak point. My _only_ weak point, I'm afraid."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true." She watched coolly as he walked towards her, looking her over, thoughtfully, "If I could only get into your head, if I could only _know_ you..."

"You've had my mother and I watched for Avo knows how long, and you still cannot claim to understand me?" she said, sceptically, "Perhaps you are just a man after all. Men have never had that much luck understanding me."

A sudden spark of pain erupted in her head, and she doubled over slightly, drawing in a hiss of breath.

William held out a small bottle of black, swirling liquid, placing it onto the counter beside him, "Please. Take this."

She lashed out, and he managed to move his hand in time to avoid them touching, but not to save the vial being smashed on the wooden floor, "To _hell_ with you."

He looked at it, and then, with a flick of his hand, deftly transformed it back into the bottle, the glass whole, the liquid swirling as usual.

Liliana sighed, "Oh _stop_ it. If I don't want to take the damned thing I won't, but _that_... that was _symbolism_. I know you probably don't get that, being a... whatever the hell you are. But don't you _dare_ disrupt my point."

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow, "Liliana?"

She sighed again, almost wearily, "You don't understand. Right."

He continued looking at her, his honey-coloured eyes locked on hers, "You seem..."

"Different, is the word." She caught his eyes and shook her head, "Ah, don't worry about me, your majesty. I think everyone's allowed a touch of despondency every now and then, don't you? It'll pass, don't worry."

He considered her for a while, and then nodded, "Very well. I will leave the tonic there. Maybe you will come to your senses."

He turned back to the door, and Liliana took half a step forwards, "Where are you going?"

He turned back, confusion and something close to surprise echoing over his face, "You care?"

She snorted, "Oh, because you wish to know where I am every second of the day, but it is _absurd_ when I ask where you will be for one _moment_ of it." He continued looking at her, and she leant back against the counter, casually, "It was curiosity. I just wondered what the _King of Blades_ does with his spare time, do you golf?"

The King of Blades paused for a moment, and then shook his head, "I have a room just down the corridor from yours. I usually retire there. Good day, Liliana."

"Good day, William."


	26. Strategy

No, I haven't abandoned this story. I just apparently suck soooo much at updating. I could blame this on so many things, but I think you'd get angry/sceptical/bored. So I'll just skip to the next chapter :)

* * *

**Strategy**

This time it was erratic. The glimpse of curly brown hair, blown back by the wind. A quick glance of dark eyes before they were gone again. Words in a language she couldn't understand. A flash of red on black. White on red. A smell that for less than a second burned in the back of her throat. Heat. A whisper of air across the back of her ankles. Drips of liquid on bare skin. Red on white. A shrill, sharp sound in her ears, the sound of -

Liliana forced herself upright, awake, already fighting hard to remember, already battling with her mind, trying to force the images into her eyes again, the noise into her ears again, but her lips managed only the two words she could remember: "Katherine Ferrer."

* * *

"So. What have you got planned now?"

Jaina watched water drip from the ceiling. Whether it was condensation or whether the dungeon level of this castle was actually built below the surface of the sea she didn't know. She'd watched the same leak for what felt like about four hours. She had no idea what day it was. She had no idea how long she'd been here.

She'd even stopped keeping track of how many times she'd been killed.

"I don't know what you mean." She said, dully, eyes still on the water drips. She had a vague idea that they were slowly driving her insane. But she had lasted longer than this in solitary with a collar chained round her neck, and she'd survived then.

The thought shot a memory through her head. Cold stone enclosed around her. Pain both dull and sharp in her neck. Water on her cheeks. The taste of salt on her tongue.

Blade closed her eyes for a moment, ridding herself of the water drips for the first time in however long she had been here. She was beginning to learn to suppress the flashbacks. She couldn't stop the nightmares, but she could control her reaction to them. They seemed to know about them here, and, fortunately, did not question her on them. She didn't know how she would react should Warde push the issue.

"Yes you do."

Jaina opened her eyes again. For a second she had almost forgotten he was here. She thought about it for a second, and then locked gazes with him, casually, "The last guard to do the rounds here, he was a little on the short side. I could probably overpower him easily if he didn't have Will. If I took him by surprise I could probably take him down even _with_. One of them had a blade as well, I've not seen that before. Could be useful."

Warde nodded, thoughtfully. He had long since stopped being surprised when she detailed her 'plans' to him, as they both knew nothing would come of them while she was still unarmed and Will-less, and now he often asked her about any recent updates to her mental filing cabinet on the castle.

Of course, she didn't tell him _everything_. But she told him enough to perk his interest, and hopefully enough to distract him from killing her once again, at least for a while.

"Anything else?"

She shook her head, "Not really. Was thinking about ways to get them into the cell, but I couldn't think of anything concrete. I mean, injury, illness, that's not exactly an incentive with me, they wouldn't come in to check how I was doing. My brain even considered playing _dead_, but we all know _that_ won't work." She thought about it for a moment, and then shook her head again, "And the other guards won't talk to me, so there's no chance I can manipulate them _that_ way. Orders from on high, I assume?"

"From me, actually."

She looked at him, "You ordered the guards not to talk to me? Why, because I would manipulate them, or because you don't like to share?"

He shrugged, "Perhaps a bit of both."

"Warde, you were an unsubtle fool at first and now you're a slightly-more-subtle _idiot_." She replied, wearily, shaking her head, "What on earth makes you think I'll give in to you? In _any_ terms of the phrase?"

He shrugged again, "We've got a long time ahead of us. We're already talking civilly. Who knows where this will go."

"_I_ do. And if you think this is me being civil then I'm insulted."

"You can be more civil?" he sounded surprised. Whether he genuinely thought she hated everyone or he was just being sarcastic, she didn't know.

"Only to people who haven't tried to kill me. Well." She corrected, tilting her head to one side, "_Repeatedly_, anyway, I know quite a lot of people who have tried to kill me just the _once_, and I'm sometimes perfectly civil to _them_."

Warde looked at her for a long time, and then abruptly got to his feet, "Are you hungry?"

Avo, yes. She shrugged, casually, "Do you have steak?" he moved forwards and slid a plate with a dry chunk of bread on it into her cage. She sighed. "Y'know, I got better food than this in the damned _Spire_..."

"That's probably because they didn't know you were immortal back then."

She nodded, thoughtfully, "That's quite possible considering _I_ didn't know I was immortal back then."

She took a bite from the hunk of bread. It was stale and cut against the inside of her mouth, but she relished it, forcing herself to eat slowly, to chew, to wait.

He watched her as she ate, something she wasn't unused to. But her mind was racing. Despite her indifference, she was surprised that he'd ordered the other guards not to talk to her. He'd made her job more difficult, sure, but there was something else under there. Did he genuinely feel so... _territorial_ over her?

"Y'know, the longer I stay here, the surer I'm gunna be." He glanced up at her, but she kept her eyes on the opposite wall. "Time aint gunna change my mind, Warde." She took in a slow, deep breath, and then got to her feet, a little unsteadily. Halfway through the movement she had to grab hold of the bars, but she got herself standing eventually. He stood too, and she looked at him, seriously, "So why don't you get in here, be a man, and we'll see who will win this. What d'you say we get this over with."

"Hmm." He looked at her for a moment, "Interesting."

"What do you say."

He seemed to think it over. Then he shook his head, "I could not use my Will. To make it fairer."

She cocked an eyebrow, "That's a hell of a gamble."

He nodded, "Yeah."

"Why."

He smiled, and shrugged, "I'm bored. Something I'm sure you relate to."

"You're bored." She repeated, slowly, "So it's time to come pick on the prisoner?" He said nothing. After a moment, she shook her head, "Luckily for you, the prisoner's okay with that."

* * *

"Good morning."

Liliana didn't move from her position sat at the vanity table with her head in her hands, instead just opening her eyes and looking at him, "Never heard of knocking on a lady's door, sir?"

Kenton seemed to hesitate, "I did knock. You didn't hear me."

She frowned, "Oh." The pain and dizziness in her head unsettled her for a moment, but then she sat up straight, her hands bracing her weight on the desk in front of her, "Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to come in?"

The man nodded, and took a few steps into the room, "Are you alright?"

"I didn't know his majesty was asking his peons to check up on me."

There was silence for a moment. Then he took a few steps towards her, hesitantly, "How's the pain?"

She let out a low, frustrated growl, shaking her head and looking away, "The _pain_ isn't my primary focus at the moment."

He seemed confused. "Then... what is?"

"I'm not quietly in agony," she stood up, pacing a little before collapsing back onto her bed, "I'm _bored_." Kenton raised an eyebrow and she shook her head again, "I've an active mind, I get bored easily. Especially when cooped up with nothing to _do_." Swiftly and deftly, she threw the nearest glass ornament directly towards the man's head.

Without so much as a blink, Kenton held up a hand, and a blue shield of energy stopped the makeshift projectile in its tracks.

Liliana sighed, heavily, "Oh, play fair or not at all, Kenton."

He placed the glass rose gently down on the nearest table, "I fear I'm not one for games."

She sat up, looking at him, "Are you sure? After all... you seem like... a _chess_ man, to me."

He frowned again, "Chess?"

"You don't play?" she got up again, walking over to him, "It seems right up your street. You don't seem like a Fortune's Tower lout, but maybe... strategy?"

Kenton was already looking uneasy, and she managed to keep down her smile. This was way too easy.

"You're... acting a little erratically."

She smiled, "I always do that when I'm trying to manipulate someone."

Again, he didn't blink. "If you're trying to manipulate me, it certainly won't work unless I know what you're after."

"I wasn't clear?" she took another step forwards, watching him as he glanced down at her feet, "A _chessboard_, Kenton. I'm sure you can make one. Come. Let's have a game."

"Your Majesty -"

"_Please_ don't call me that." She cut over, swiftly.

He paused, looking at her, "My lady."

Lily nodded, "Better." He continued looking at her blankly, and she sighed, "I'm _bored_, Kenton. Just one game. And if you beat me, then another - I can't stand to leave on a loss." She looked him over, "Are you any good?"

He frowned again, "Any... _good_?"

One more step had him leaning away ever so slightly, she was sure subconsciously, and she kept his eyes, blinking freely but making sure to maintain eye contact. "Good." She repeated, encouragingly. She let the silence ring for a moment, and then nodded, "At chess." He still stared at her, and she smiled, "Come, Kenton. You don't need to be frightened of me. I promise, I'm the epitome of hospitality."

Again, no response. He just looked at her, a guarded frown on his face.

"Something wrong?" she offered, calmly.

The boy shook his head. Then nodded, "When you speak... sometimes I'm not sure of your meaning."

She hardly had to try to bring up an innocent frown, "I am many things, but I'm not ambiguous. Am I? I say what I mean. I want to play chess."

Kenton opened his mouth, uncertainly, and she quickly rode over him: "Come. I'm not even that good. In fact... I'm not that good at all."

"Then why play?"

"Because... it'll pass the time." He still looked hesitant, and she shook her head, "I promise you, I'll play fair."

_...enough_. She finished, silently.

A strange expression crossed the boy's face, and Lily wondered if she'd pushed him too far, "You're very..."

"What? Human?" he just looked at her, and, for once, she almost felt surprised. She shook her head, allowing an almost regretful expression to move over her face, "Don't worry. I won't be for much longer. All the more reason to play." Apparently he still needed another push. She sighed, looking at the floor for a moment before moving her gaze back up, allowing him the full effect of her heavily-lashed eyes. "Please, Kenton?"

Bingo. He hesitated for a moment, looking almost _guilty_, and then nodded, slowly, "Very well, my lady."

She let out a slow breath and gave him a smile, "Thank you."

"_If_ you will take the tonic."

* * *

Jaina spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor. She was panting a little and her whole body was on fire, every muscle screaming if she even thought about moving. But she wasn't finished yet. She'd taken one hell of a beating, but she wasn't finished yet. She staggered to her feet, and quickly dodged Warde's blow, moving to one side, throwing one of her own, missing completely... At first it had felt unreal, as if this was all a dream. But the throbs and aches had soon cut short this point of view, and she was now fully aware of everything around her. And it _hurt_. It... _hurt_.

It had been a long time since a normal person had been able to take on Jaina. Perhaps _too_ long. Of course, wrestling with balverines and the occasional troll had kept her skills sharp enough to easily take on any threat Albion could throw at her, but this... this was something new.

Jaina was too slow to dodge the next blow, and it hit her hard in the stomach. She doubled over, and a blow to her head forced her to her knees. She fought to get her breath and stand up, but the pain was too much. She couldn't get up, and felt the man stop in front of her.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Sparrow."

Jaina let out something that could have been a laugh, and Warde gave a shrewd smile, "Okay. Maybe that was a lie."

"Really?" with the sharp pressure still encasing her lungs, her voice was breathless and pained, "Couldn't guess."

He moved closer, and she glanced up. Her eyes locked onto his, the almost _penitent_ expression on his face sending anger burning through her. He needed to make up his goddamned mind.

Or have her make it up for him.

She coughed a little as blood spiked at her lungs, ignoring the taste in her mouth. "Warde. I'm the sort of person to fight until they physically can't. So either knock me out or kill me, your choice."

"I'm not going to do that."

She gave a sharp, emotionless laugh. Of course _that_ would be too much for him. Hell, even insane, inhuman demons apparently had lines they wouldn't cross. She nodded, slowly, stumbled to her feet, and trained her gaze onto him again, "Then I guess I'll just have to leave you no choice."

* * *

Liliana's head was still reeling. She hadn't expected it of him, she really hadn't. The fact that the little mind slave still had even the slightest amount of intelligence both surprised and amused her, and she found a small smile was playing over her lips as she considered it.

She glanced over the glass of tonic that never moved from its place on her bedside table. She picked it up, thoughtfully, shaking the bottle a little to watch the liquid swish around the glass.

It made her skin crawl.

She looked up again. Kenton stood still, watching her, face expressionless. Right from the beginning she had known that he wouldn't be a negotiator. Peons to insane control-freaks rarely were. That he had managed to think up this deal all on his very own was something she hadn't been expecting, but she was now fairly sure that it was a condition he wasn't going to go back on.

So she had to choose. Of course if this was just over a simple game of chess she wouldn't even be _considering_ what she was right now. But her plan was vague and still not finished yet; should she be sure it would work before attempting it? She'd never needed a guarantee before.

But perhaps this was a whole different game.

Liliana watched Kenton closely. She paused, breathing slowly and deeply, thinking hard.

"Well?" Kenton asked, finally.

She held his eyes. Then she downed the black liquid in one.


	27. Playing For Keeps

**Playing for Keeps**

Keeping to his promise, Kenton had created a chessboard for them along with pieces made of what looked like frosted crystal.

Liliana took it into her hands, looking it over in depth, and smiled, "Perfect. It's beautiful."

"Beautiful?" he repeated, frowning.

She glanced at him, already taking the board over to the bed and placing it in the middle, "Don't you think? I'll take white."

Kenton looked at her for a long moment before joining her uncertainly on the bed. Kenton had been looking at her like that ever since the black liquid had touched her lips; possibly because he hadn't believed she'd truly accept his deal, but more probably because she still hadn't shown even the slightest sign of pain.

And it was taking every single thing she had.

The fire had spread since the second she'd drank, and she had just enough willpower left to realise that it was almost the same pain she'd felt that first time, the time with the King, the time she drank his blood.

It was time for a party trick of hers.

Closing the eyes helped shield the pain, as did a slight increase of her grip on the glass bottle, which thankfully was stronger than it looked. She'd forced her hands not to shake, ignoring the poison as it burned through her throat and stomach. And, though it was agony and her body was screaming at her to react, she gave no visible signs at all of her pain, and opened her eyes again less than five seconds later.

Now he was watching her a little too closely as she made her first move.

Knight to F3. She picked it carefully. It wasn't the conventional move and it wasn't the rookie pawn to D or E4. She wasn't fantastic at chess, although she'd played it often as a child.

Fortunately, however, she excelled at the game _she_ was playing.

Kenton moved deftly, a signature pawn to D5, and she smiled, now moving pieces automatically without really thinking. "So you never answered my question."

He kept his eyes on the board, apparently concentrating on the game, "Oh?"

She smiled, "How good are you? It's hard to tell."

"I've played a few games in my time."

Her smile grew, and she watched his hand as he moved the pieces. He had the touch of a very experienced player indeed.

Either that or an experienced musician.

She moved her knight again and he immediately moved a pawn into the offensive. Valuing her knight, she hesitated for a few seconds before moving it back to its original square.

At this Kenton raised an eyebrow, "You're not very good at this, are you?"

She shrugged, "I told you I wasn't."

A few moves later as she placed a finger on her bishop, thoughtfully, he shot her a look through his thick black fringe, smiling slightly, "You sure you know how that one moves?"

She cocked an eyebrow, "Funny. That's funny." He smiled again, and she shook her head, the picture of mild frustration, "I haven't played in some time, alright? I used to play against Mama, but I swear she cheats."

"You can't cheat at chess."

"I bet _she_ can..."

A frown went over his face as he looked her over, curiously, "Your relationship with your mother..."

They continued playing, almost automatically, and Lily caught his eyes, "What about it?"

"It seems almost... combative."

That sparked amusement in her and she glanced up, smiling, "Seen straight through us, haven't you?"

"You're fine with that?"

"It's not exactly something we keep hidden." She paused for a moment to avoid quite an obvious move on Kenton's part, and then shook her head, "Competition breeds success. How the hell am I going to excel at anything if I'm worried about cramping my mother's style?"

"What makes you think you have to follow _her_ style?"

At this she frowned, for the first time paying more attention to him than the game, "What do you mean?"

"Well. It can't be a surprise to you that you and your mother have followed... similar paths."

"Similar paths?" she shook her head, returning her eyes to the game, thoughtfully, "My mother's biography is a mountain path. Filled with sharps twists and sudden falls. Mine's more like... a valley road."

"Meaning?"

"Mama should have died when she was six. She didn't, and became a Hero." She made her move, a little more slowly than usual, "I was _always_ going to be what I am."

"So maybe the transition was different. But what you _are_ -"

"A pirate, a Hero, they're pretty far apart." She interrupted, deftly, "I mean, of course, we have similar traits but that's not exactly surprising seeing she raised me. But our moral compass... what she believes makes us who we are... they're completely different."

"I don't think that's true."

She looked up at him, "Kenton, if I needed to torture you and kill you... I'd do without a second's hesitation." He raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head, "Sorry, was that a surprise? It shouldn't be. Now, how do you think my _mother_ would react to that thought? Let me tell you - it would repel her. She's a lot more... _open_ since she moved to Bloodstone... but she's still the Hero. I was never made to be that woman."

"Maybe you've influenced her more than she'd influenced you."

She smiled, "Maybe we're just not that alike."

Kenton cocked his head to one side, that small smile moving over his lips again, "A controversial female fighter kicking down people that deserve it? A woman that'll do what she thinks is right, despite what others say? Do you really think you've travelled that far from the tree?"

Liliana looked at him for a long time. Then she shook her head, "Hold that thought." She ignored the flash of something close to frustration that went through his eyes and glanced down at the board, "I think this move might actually do something." She paused for at least five seconds and then nodded, "Yeah, I'm right. Watch."

She moved her bishop straight through the ranks and deftly took Kenton's queen.

Kenton moved his eyes from the board to her and back again. He used his king to take the offending piece, and then looked up at her, "You sacrifice your bishop to get the most powerful piece of the game for your first take. Interesting."

Lily smiled, and used her next three turns to take out three pawns, "And let's make sure you don't get any of these little guys past me, either."

"I thought you weren't good at chess?"

"I learnt a bit from my mother. I think it's more down to _luck_, however..."

Two moves later she used her knight to bring them into check. She shot him a smile, and it didn't fade when he moved his king away a space.

"So tell me," he said, and she smiled, though not at the game, "What is it about chess that fascinates you so?"

She genuinely thought about it, using her knight to take his bishop, showing no reaction when he deftly avenged the move with his own, "I find the imagery... evocative."

"_Evocative_?"

She nodded, "Look at the board. Chess is played in a similar way to the royal court. The pawns, the commoners, are expendable." She pointed out the pieces with a delicate finger, "As you work up the feudal system, the pieces get more and more powerful, more and more _important_. _Except_... for the _royalty_. Here the queen is the most powerful piece in the game, and the king is next to useless." She shrugged, casually making her next move, "I find it an interesting observation of truth in a misogynistic world."

She could feel his eyes on her as he looked up through his mane of black hair, "You think kings are next to useless?"

Lily shrugged again, "Aren't they? They're barely one step up from the commoners."

"How so?"

This time she looked at him, raising an eyebrow, "Well. They can only move one space in either direction."

Kenton shook his head, "That's not what we're talking about."

She smiled, "I know." Then she shook her head, nonchalantly, "Yet, the whole game is lost if you lose the king. The worst piece in the game. Even with pawns, if they manage to survive the whole board... you have a new officer. Even a new queen." She paused and smiled again, "Now, if the aim of the game were to capture the _queen_... Well. That would be a lot more interesting, don't you think?"

Kenton glanced up, and his face turned an adorable shade of light pink as he realised she had been watching him closely. Then he shook his head and returned to the game, "I'm hearing a comment on the nature of life, here."

Liliana shifted her position on the bed, tucking her legs underneath her and lowering down a little to be closer to the board. She smiled at him, charmingly, and shook her head, "Perhaps you think things through too deeply, dear sir." He just looked at her, and her smile grew slightly, "Perhaps we should concentrate on the game?"

"If you wanted me to concentrate on the game then why are you distracting us both with metaphors of life?"

At this she laughed, "I said I'd play fair. I never said I wouldn't try to distract you." She looked at him for a moment, and then shook her head, "What about you?"

He frowned, "I don't understand the question."

"Metaphors of life." His frown deepened a little more and she shook her head again, "I understand it's not that easy to keep onto my thought pattern, but do try."

He raised an eyebrow, "Okay?"

"You look young, but... you are _so old_." He just looked at her. She nodded at him, "Those scars on your face... where did you get them?"

"I thought we were concentrating on the game?"

"The game isn't complicated; we can concentrate on both, surely?" No reply. She focussed completely on the marks, those three long, diagonal scars. She cocked her head slightly to one side, looking them over, "They can't be knife wounds; they're too regular. What are they?"

The young boy was starting to look almost uneasy, "Why does it matter?"

Her attention now locked, she found she couldn't back away. "Call it general interest. I can't think of anything else they could be." Kenton was shifting in his seat now, _definitely_ uneasy, and she shook her head, "I don't know... some sort of machinery? Are you a factory boy, Kenton?"

"If that's your explanation." He replied, voice quiet and monotone.

Through the fog of pure, unwavering curiosity, Liliana noticed his tone.

_Stop now, or lose him._ A voice said in her mind, firmly, a voice that sounded annoyingly like her mother.

"Okay." He glanced up at her, quickly. She smiled and shook her head, "Idle curiosity. I'll get the answer eventually - there's no need to ruin a perfectly polite chess game."

Kenton opened and shut his mouth. Then he shook his head and tried again, "What makes you think I'll tell you?"

She shrugged, "I usually end up getting what I want. Especially if what I want is just... information." He stared at her. She shrugged again, "Information never hurt anybody, did it? But it's your past, I understand that. I won't push you."

Kenton looked at her for a long time. "You're trying to manipulate me."

"Am I? Well. It won't work if you know it's happening, will it?"

He just looked at her. Lily smiled, "Now. Where were we?"

* * *

A door upstairs clanged shut, and soon the sound of footsteps rang around the small cell. Warde glanced up, and then stood, slowly, wiping his hands on a handkerchief from his pocket.

The King of Blades pulled open the grated metal door, coming in and looking at the woman on the floor, "Is she still alive?"

Warde paused, glancing at the battered, unmoving Sparrow, eyes hovering over her slowly shifting chest, "Still breathing."

His Majesty nodded, slowly, and then turned his attention back to him, "Was this really necessary?"

"I think so."

"You _think_ so?" A hint of coldness had entered his voice, and Warde immediately looked up, straightening a little and giving him his full attention.

"Yes, my lord."

The King sighed, and looked back at the girl on the floor. Warde followed his gaze, fixing his attention on a vicious bruise along her left forearm. The bruise was starting to heal even as they looked at it, shrinking smaller ever so slowly, the blood draining gradually back into her body.

The King straightened up again, shaking his head, "Get her sorted out."

Warde bowed, "Yes, my lord."

"How hard did she fight this time?"

He glanced over his many injuries, the bruises on his arms, neck and torso and the still bleeding bite on his wrist, "_Hard_, my lord."

His Majesty sighed again, shaking his head, "She's fighting against something she knows is inevitable. It's as admirable as it is unnecessary."

"I don't think she sees it as unnecessary."

He looked up, "Any closer to understanding her?"

"A little. But she's a mountain of complexity. It's gunna take time."

The King smiled, dryly, "Well. We've got that."

* * *

Liliana glanced at her pieces. She was doing rather well. She already had four of Kenton's pawns, a bishop, and, most importantly, his queen, whereas he had still only managed to take the sacrificed bishop and both knights. He moved his knight to take a pawn, and she frowned a little, looking at the board.

Kenton raised an eyebrow, "Stuck?" he asked, casually.

She looked up, feeling a lock of hair fall over her eyes. Then she smiled, and moved her queen forwards, taking his knight, "Check."

He moved his king, and she swiftly took his next knight. He frowned, and she smiled again. She was also doing rather well at the _other_ game she was playing. She'd managed to relax him once again, and he was now settled comfortably on the satin sheets, torso down with legs over the side, elbows pressed into the mattress and his chin resting in his hands.

They continued playing, and Kenton continued watching her play. Finally, he decided to comment: "For someone that has such a favourable opinion of her queen... you sure seem to undervalue her."

Lily glanced up, "How so? The queen is a _warrior_. She doesn't need to be protected, cosseted, her home is the battlefield." She picked up her queen, playfully twirling the piece in her fingers before taking Kenton's last bishop. She smiled, "That's why her majesty is the best piece in the game. She doesn't fight to defend her king. She fights to capture the _enemy's_ king."

"She reminds you of you."

Lily frowned, still smiling, this observation surprising her slightly, "What?"

"She reminds you of you." Kenton repeated, calmly. She cocked an eyebrow, and he gave a small, lopsided smile, "It's not that difficult to see, is it?"

"I remind myself of a chess piece? Specifically, the _best_ chess piece?"

The smile grew a little, almost _playfully_, "Not surprising, considering your ego."

A grin spread over her lips, "I suppose it shouldn't be." She watched him for a moment, abandoning the game, "And what do _you_ think is so... _regal_ about me, then, Kenton?"

Kenton moved, glancing up at her when she didn't follow, "I think you just listed most of a queen's positive attributes, didn't you? Your move."

"You think being a warrior is a good thing?"

He smiled again, that strange, lopsided smile, "It's your move."

She looked at him for a moment. Then she shook her head, smiling, "Fine." She moved her queen one space to the left, "Check." She stayed quiet as Kenton moved his king in a mirror image to hers, and then looked up at him "Kenton?"

He glanced up, "Yes?"

She drew in a subtle breath, "Have you ever heard the name Katherine Ferrer?"

He seemed confused. "No." He said, shaking his head, "Someone of your world?"

She studied his face carefully. Nothing. Regret spiked in her chest, but she wasn't really surprised. Her dreams were tangled. Messy. That she could remember a name at all was astounding. She couldn't even remember why she had thought it was anything to _do_ with this place.

Kenton had moved his king one space to the left again. Lily echoed it, and shook her head, "I'm not certain. Check."

"More distraction techniques?"

She raised her eyebrows, the picture of innocence, "You wound me, sir." He raised an eyebrow back, and she smiled, "Just curious, that's all. Check."

"Just curious?"

He moved the damned piece to the left yet again, and Lily looked down at the board, not having to work hard to bring up frustration, "Come on Kenton, stop messing me about here. Check."

He smiled, "Surely that's what this game is about?"

"It's about skill. Not running to the hills when you're in danger. Check."

"You think that's what this is?"

"_Check_. What else would it be?"

He caught her eyes. She looked at him, expectantly. "Just a game?" he asked, as if testing her.

She paused, and then laughed, "Of course. _Just a game_..." she paused, thoughtfully, "You know, I don't think I've played _just a game_ for some time. This is..."

"What?"

She paused, as if catching herself, and then shook her head, "Nothing. Don't worry about it. Check."

Kenton looked at her for a moment. Then he shook his head and moved his king to A3, and she smiled, noticing his proximity to her prized rook. "Ah. So you've finally decided to fight instead of running. Nicely done." She moved her rook out of his range, and he nodded, swiftly moving his own.

"Check. What were you going to say?"

"What?" she glanced down, as if confused. Then she smiled, "I didn't see that. You're not so bad after all..."

She moved her king to safety behind a pawn so Kenton couldn't just bring her back into check on the next turn, and then waited patiently as he played his move.

"What were you going to say?"

She glanced up at him, "What? Check."

"Before. You said 'this is...' and then you... trailed off."

She shook her head, a little jerkily, "Does it matter? It's your move."

"I don't know. Does it?"

She just looked at him. "It's your move."

Kenton shook his head, "I'm not going to let this go, Liliana."

_Liliana_?

She hesitated. Then she shook her head, "Interesting." She replied, keeping his eyes, "I was going to say... _interesting_, this is _interesting_."

He made his move, still watching her, "I think you're lying."

"Why would I lie?" she asked, sharply.

"I don't know, why would you?"

"_Stop doing that_." Kenton watched her. Lily shook her head, sighing heavily, "Fine. I was lying. I was going to say... 'new'. I was going to say 'new'."

"New?"

She shook her head, bitterly, "Playing a game for the fun of it is not something I'm used to."

"Why?"

She glanced up at him, impatiently, "What d'you mean, _why_? I assume it's not something you're used to _either_."

"Yes, but you're..." he stopped.

Lily stared at him, "I'm what?" he didn't reply. She leaned over the chessboard towards him, competition burning in her eyes, "I'm _what_."

The movement had brought him very close. Lily held his eyes for a moment. His lips were inches from hers; she could feel his breath on her skin. Her muscles tensed.

He hesitated. Then he shook his head, "_Normal_." He finished, finally.

"Normal?" he said nothing, and she continued staring at him. "_Normal_?" she repeated, almost unable to believe it.

"You don't think you're normal?"

Her hand slid forwards on the sheet as she adjusted her position, and it connected with his. She glanced down, quickly, and then back up to him, "I... I don't..."

"Is that such a bad thought?" he murmured, softly.

She kept his eyes. Her mouth was moving as if forming words, but she didn't speak. She shook her head, hesitantly. Her eyes fell. Then she looked across the board and deftly pushed her rook left two spaces, "Checkmate."

* * *

Kenton looked down, surprised, blue eyes quickly scanning the board. Then he shook his head and tipped his king over with the tip of his finger before glancing up at her again, almost astounded, "Hell. Were you playing me?"

Liliana didn't meet his eyes, instead getting swiftly to her feet, "We were playing each other. That's the point of the game."

She could sense him watching her, closely, and it wasn't long before he rose too, "Liliana -"

"No." she said, softly, before quickly leaving the room.


	28. The Next Best Thing

It's been some time. As a last year undergraduate, I decided I better spend a little time on the big 'D' word. But I made this chapter a little longer to make up for it :)

* * *

**The Next Best Thing**

Pacing rarely did much to relieve the boredom. But, then again, there was little that did. Seeing how far he could push the various lackeys proved a sort of sport, but never enough to keep more than the barest amount of his attention. That sport was even further reduced after their host's apparent banning of any communication with him of any kind. He hadn't managed to tempt a single guard into even one short sentence since the order had been given.

Perhaps he would try goading the next one. He couldn't take them head-on, not with their damned Will, but if he could just take one of them by surprise...

It was unlikely. The chance of him getting his hands on a weapon seemed low indeed. So, for now, he just waited.

But waiting was so very very dull.

His mind wandered to the last time he'd been locked in solitude like this. His ship had been made for Ordova, the largest of the Atland islands, hunting for the extremely rare Golden Firenose, the last remnants of the once mighty dragon race. Unfortunately, the locals seemed to find his beheading of one of their 'sacred' animals an act of sacrilege, and through sheer numbers managed to capture him, killing all his men in the process. He had been placed in their best cage, shackled to the wall, with their most capable guards watching him around the clock.

It had taken him a whole three days to get out.

The pirate came out of his thoughts enough to hear the creak of the door, and made up his mind easily. Three days was three days too many. He stood, resolving that this would be the day, come hell or high water, but as a blonde-haired head appeared round the side he smiled, and realised it was not going to be nearly as difficult as he thought.

* * *

Liliana looked the pirate over with a small amount of surprise, and then shook her head, sighing, "Typical. Is _nowhere_ in this place sacred?"

"Good to see you too, my dear." Reaver replied, casually, "I assume you are well?"

She came fully into the room, shaking her head, "You assume a lot." She looked him over, thoughtfully, "When did you get out of the dungeons?"

He shrugged, indifferently, "A week? A month? Who knows. More to the point, how did _you_ get here?"

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head, turning her back to him to explore the empty cell, "His Lordship has always given me free reign, with the usual restrictions. I can go to any room in the castle provided it is unlocked."

"Unlocked?" he smirked, moving towards her, "My dear minx... I had no idea your talents progressed to the skills of a common burglar..."

She glanced back, frowning at him, "Burglar?"

"Lockpicking? It is quite an uncivilised act, my dear."

"And one of which I am unacquainted with." He frowned, and she raised that eyebrow again, "I assume you don't remember me having to break my way into my mother's quarters." She turned from him again, moving back to her original spot, "The door was unlocked."

"I have found quite the opposite, my dear, and on more than one occasion."

She didn't look up. "It was open. I walked straight in." She glanced at him, "Not expecting _you_, I'm afraid, but that is hardly the point. The door was most definitely unlocked." She moved her hands over the wood, "So the _point_... is how I managed to open it when you could not."

"Ideas?"

"Several. But only a few substantiated."

"Well...?"

She was silent for a while. Then she spun back round, pacing the ground for a moment, "There are no locks on the doors. On _any_ of the doors. They don't even have _handles_, _none_ of them, they just _open_, so how do they lock them?"

"How?"

She nodded, "They don't. They must just have a specific trigger to _open_ the doors. Now, let me see... What do I have that you don't?"

"Feminine wiles?" he suggested, casually.

She smiled, "Though they are indeed useful for many things... door-opening is not one of them."

He smiled back, walking over to her and placing his hands on her shoulders, "Oh, I don't know... I'm sure _many_ doors open on your command."

She shrugged him off, easily, "Not usually without people _behind_ them. No, no, I'm thinking about this the wrong way. What I should be asking... is what I have in common with _them_... which I _don't_ with _you_."

He frowned, but didn't need to think about it for long, "Then there's only one."

"Will. Yes, it _must_ be, it's _Will_. Only a Will user can open the doors." Then she shook her head, "But I can't _use_ Will, not here. Is it just the potential? But, no, then I could have opened any door months ago. And so could _Mama_; she'd have escaped before they'd left the corridor."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. So what is it that's stopping us?"

His eyes moved over her, clocking the decadent silk dress of gold and blue, accompanied by her usual fang necklace, "A lack of unassuming clothing?"

"No. It's not just Will. It's... the _level_. He must have placed a cap on the amount needed to open it."

"So you have an exceptional amount of shiny blue lines this morning?"

"No." Then she hesitated. She looked down at her hands, and then her arms. Then she shook her head and started pacing again, before once again stopping at the door, "But... I just took the tonic. The... _fortifier_." She paused, and then shook her head again, "What _is_ that potion?"

"Perhaps -"

"Reaver, please stop answering my rhetorical questions." She glanced at him over her shoulder, giving a small, grim smile, "It's very distracting."

Reaver raised an eyebrow, "Then perhaps you should stop asking them out loud...?"

She paused for a moment, and then smiled, "Perhaps I'm not used to people being around. I think better out loud, and recently there's been no-one present to comment on it."

He raised an eyebrow, "A lonely existence."

"Oh I find there's always a castle guard or two to keep my company."

He smirked, and walked towards her again, "Speaking of which... I can't help but wonder on your reason for being here." He stopped before her, a hand coming up to lightly brush over her hair, "Seeking company?"

She glanced up at him, and then took a step back, putting her hand on the door and raising an eyebrow, "I was just wandering. Care for a stroll?"

He smiled, slowly, "My dear Liliana, I'd love to."

* * *

Liliana watched the pirate out of the corner of her eye as they walked, and he talked. She wasn't listening. She was thinking. She kept one ear on the conversation just in case, but she was far too busy revising her plans to actually pay attention to the pirate's egocentric ramblings. She couldn't _believe_ he'd managed it. How on _earth_ had the man convinced the _King of Blades_ to release him from the dungeons? She was well aware the man had a silver tongue, but _this_? This was nothing short of miraculous. He'd convinced the inconvincible.

And tore a gigantic hole straight through her plans.

"My dear?"

She glanced up. Reaver was watching her, eyebrow raised.

"Well, of course." She replied, silkily, without hesitation, "Don't you?"

He smiled and nodded, "Of course." She smiled back slightly, thanking her own good luck, but then frowned a little when he continued staring at her.

"Something wrong?" she asked, lightly.

He paused. Then he smiled again, slightly lopsidedly, "You look tired, my dear. Are the tortures of this castle finally getting to you?"

She shook her head, indifferently, moving her eyes back to their path, "You don't know what torture is, Reaver. And I doubt you'll ever find out. Sadly."

The Pirate King cocked an eyebrow, "Sadly?"

"Sadly." She looked around at him, frowning, "Where's Norman?"

Reaver shrugged, casually, and she shook her head. _Useless_...

"Let me ask _you_ something."

She focussed her eyes on his, "Yes?"

"Why were you wandering?"

She continued walking, leading them back up the long, spiral staircase, "Oh, no reason. Just looking for somewhere to freak out for a while." She shot him a smile over her shoulder, "I'm emotionally fragile, after all. Wouldn't want any strange men taking advantage of me."

"Taking advantage?" she could hear the smirk in his voice, and gracefully ignored it, "Of course not."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. He was as interminable as mother had always said he was.

They had reached the door to her chamber, and, thinking her actions through carefully, she pushed it open, stepping deftly into The Fake Seraphim. She almost sighed a breath of relief as she realised Kenton wasn't present, and walked over to her chair at the vanity table, turning it round to face the centre of the room and then taking a seat, "So. You haven't asked me yet."

Reaver stopped looking over the Red Dragon in its case and glanced at her, "Asked you what?"

She smiled, "For an update."

He nodded, almost approvingly, going back to admiring the room, "I figured you'd let me know when you were ready. So?"

"We can't escape." She replied, her voice a little more sober, "I'm working on it, but it may take some time."

He picked up the glass rose, passing it carelessly between his hands, "You're working on it?"

"Plans are in motion, yes. I need to get Mama out before -" She stopped herself, abruptly, and he immediately looked at her.

"Before...?"

She smiled. "Before I move onto the next step." She motioned to the nearest chair, raising an eyebrow, "Take a seat. Can I get you anything? I managed to swipe a few bottles of Tenebrous from the King's larder, if you're of a mind."

He smiled back at her, taking a seat opposite her on the bed, casually, "I'll pass. What's this infamous 'next step'?"

Liliana's eyes were drawn to his hands. He was still holding the glass rose. She remembered hurling it at Kenton's head less than two hours ago. Then her brain recalled his lips near her ear, and she smirked as a slight pulse went through her. First the King of Blades and now this. She apparently had an even odder sense of taste than previously thought...

"Hmm?"

She glanced up again. Reaver was looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She smiled, remembering the question, "Why would I tell you that?"

He smiled slightly, "You don't trust me?"

"Oh not quite that, sir, though I understand how you could confuse it for that." She leaned towards him, "What I'm concerned about is whether or not my plan should include _you_."

His smile grew, though he kept his eyes fixed on hers, "I'm _crushed_, my dear. What have I done to deserve such... discourtesy?"

"You called me the next best thing."

His eyebrow rose, "Are you pulling a grudge?"

She shook her head, getting to her feet, "I haven't decided yet." She paced a little before stopping, looking at him again, closely, "I could leave you here. Why would I need you?" then she shook her head, considering, "Unless we need the Three. Which would be a vicious kick in the teeth right about now..."

"The other two are still alive?"

She looked at him, "I wouldn't know. It's been twenty years, Reaver. Not all of us are as... _interminable_ as you."

He smiled, "Look who's talking."

She smiled back, "I suppose so." Then something hit her, and she looked at him in a new light, "Speaking of which... May I ask a question?"

"You're threatening to abandon little old me and now you want my help?"

"Just a question, dear sir." She corrected, easily. She watched him for a second, and then shook her head, "You've been around for some time."

He shrugged, casually, "By your outlook, I suppose I have."

"Met a lot of people. Know a lot of history."

"Is this leading to a question of some sort?"

She smiled again, wryly, but still kept a sharp eye on his face, "Just one. Who is Katherine Ferrer?"

Not a spark of recognition passed over the ex Pirate King's face, "I don't believe I've heard the name. Not that names are my speciality..."

She'd thought of that one. But if this girl was as important as her dreams and strong intuition kept insisting she was, then surely a man with such a... _long_ memory as Reaver should have heard of her.

Apparently not.

She managed to restrain her disappointment once again, and was almost surprised how much sharper it was than with Kenton. Not because she didn't believe Kenton would tell her the truth, but because she truly believed Reaver would have had far more of a chance of knowing the name.

"Well." She said, calmly, her voice still, "Shame."

Reaver was now paying attention, frowning curiously at her, "Is she... important to you?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Why'd you think I'd know her?"

She smiled, "As I said. You've been around."

"Is that right." He looked at her for a second and then shook his head, "Tell me. How is it someone can know a person's name but have no idea who they are?"

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes slightly, smiling. Then she shook her head, "Marianne Pearson."

He frowned a little, smiling, slowly, "Now that name seems familiar."

She smiled back, "And there's my point." She took the rose from him, gently placing it back in its place, "A small nagging feeling, that's all."

"So you know this girl?"

She shook her head, turning back to the room, "Enough about the girl."

She could sense a raised eyebrow, "Sore subject?"

She barely recognised the voice. Her head was somewhere else now. Perhaps she had been trying so hard to change the subject that her subconscious even obeyed her, but she wasn't concentrating on Ferrer now. She was concentrating on him.

"How well do you remember that night?" she slowly moved back to her chair, moving it slightly closer to him and sitting back down, "The one of the shipwreck?"

He looked at her for a moment. Then he shook his head, indifferently, "Well enough."

"Then answer something for me. Maybe you were in a better position to... notice some particular events."

A small, curious smile moved over his lips, "Perhaps."

"Perhaps." She repeated, nodding. "Because there's something I never asked. After the shipwreck, I wasn't washed up to shore. There was hardly any sand on me." She leant down, putting her weight onto her elbows on her knees, "Did you pull me from the water?"

Reaver's reply was not quite the one she expected. He leant back, raising an eyebrow, "Of course." She just looked at him, and he shook his head, "You dear mother was unconscious on the beach. Who else would've? She regained consciousness just after I pulled you out. She didn't react well, even after I explained how I saved your life." He settled back a little further on the satin sheets, shaking his head, "Aren't I nice."

She looked at him for a moment. This realisation was... interesting. Not that he was lying, or that he thought he was, or that he thought she thought he was, but that _she_ could see _straight through_ it... it was interesting. She had to keep this little realisation secret. _Especially_ from _him_.

So she put a sly smile on her lips, leaning even closer toward him, "Are you saying that just to get me into bed with you, Mr Reaver? You know that it makes little difference, don't you?"

He smiled back, "Perhaps." Then he paused, instantly gaining her full attention, "It's not often I find myself having to... wait on the assistance of another."

She tilted her head to one side, narrowing her eyes slightly. "So you figure you'll sleep with me to make me more... _emotionally invested_? I didn't know you saw me as so fragile." She waited a bit, and then shook her head, "And _malleable_."

"Malleable?" he waved a hand, half indifference half almost-apology, "Nothing of the sort, my dear."

"But _fragile_?" she replied, her voice even silkier and lighter than usual. No aggression like passive-aggression, she'd always maintained.

"I've _always_ seen you as _fragile_. Since the second we met."

A raised eyebrow and a small, lopsided smile let across this new batch of disapproval. "How romantic."

"Fragile... but not without power, of course."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He leant forwards, putting a hand on her wrist, "A private joke, my dear. No offence was meant, I assure you."

"I'm sure." The overly sugary-sweet tone to her voice slowly dissipated. In all honesty, she'd missed it. Back home, she could make seasoned pirates literally back away with a single, predator's smile. Her charms just didn't seem to have the same effect here.

Reaver's hand was still on her wrist. She glanced down. He'd taken hold of her hand, so gently she'd barely even known it was happening. A thumb moved lightly over the soft skin of her palm, almost tenderly, his green eyes fixed on hers.

She looked at him for a moment. How was he expecting her to react? How _should_ she react? This was... a complicated subject.

She thought about that last time, that time on the _real _Seraphim. He'd been a lot less patient _that_ time. All hands and lips on her skin. His reaction at Peters' untimely interruption... Ahh, The Seraphim, those were the days... It was so strange... it felt like she was there right now.

His other hand moved, taking her by the wrist, seemingly admiring the small, neat scar across the back of her right hand, casually. He glanced up at her, and then, with barely a tug in encouragement, drew her over to the bed, sitting her next to him. Her fingers moved over the dark slash of skin, and then his eyes moved up to hers again before he smiled, lopsidedly.

"See something interesting?" she asked, very very deliberately.

His smile grew, and he shook his head, "Perhaps. Perhaps you could tell me of your plan."

"What a trade..." she shook her head, breezing over the topic, easily, "I have a plan. As always. I'm just wondering how far I should take it."

Reaver smirked, "As far as you need to, my dear. Isn't that the point?"

"Perhaps it is." She paused, watching him for a moment. Then she shook her head, smiling a little, "Well. At least I know I can still seduce _you_. And so my ego survives yet another near-miss..."

The pirate chuckled and his hand left hers, instead landing on her knee, gently urging her round to face him a little. Her dress drew up as it twisted underneath her, and suddenly his hand was on bare skin. "My dear, if there is a man on this world you cannot seduce, then that man is _blind_."

At this she laughed, "Sweet nothings aren't something I'd've expected of you, Reaver. Though that wasn't bad for a sailor-boy." She raised an eyebrow, smiling wryly, "Or is it _Hero_?"

Reaver was looking at her neck, gently pushing her thick blonde hair over her shoulder, stroking delicate fingers over her throat. "Why don't you find out?"

She smiled. "Okay. _That_ was bad."

He laughed, deep and low in his chest, and deftly slid her backwards onto the bed.

Liliana felt her heart twist as it missed more than a beat, and another smile played over her lips. Perhaps it _had_ been a while. The last time... Jendring? A good man, now long dead. She deftly ignored the man on top of her as he slipped the sleeves of her dress down over her shoulders. The Seraphim... She'd watched at least three full moons rise through this room's window. Had it really been that long?

Time was running out.

So she was back to her plans, then. The few she had managed to concoct... they were _underdeveloped_, at _best_. Scattered. Merely bits and pieces, at the moment. She had only one that would have worked, but that had been crushed thanks to the man now on top of her. She had to get Mama out of here before she did something to get herself killed - _permanently_, this time. If she knew her mother, she'd probably already annoyed Warrick and the lord enough that they'd consider making her death stick. So what on earth should she be doing?

Reaver was trailing kisses along her calf. She glanced down, distracted from her thoughts for a moment. She smirked. Typical Reaver. He must have sensed that her mind was elsewhere, and was hardly the type to settle for any less than her full, undivided attention.

"Trying something new, are we?" she murmured, raising an amused eyebrow. Perhaps indifference could be of assistance here.

The pirate king smiled against her skin, and then, quickly and without warning, sunk his teeth into her leg.

She jerked, the pain not bad but surprising her into a hiss of breath. Then she laughed, lowly, "Now _that_ was quite uncalled for."

Reaver laughed, "My apologies, dear Liliana. I just thought I detected the slightest hint of lethargy there. Was I wrong?"

"Lethargy?" Liliana finally made her decision. Neatly, she rolled them over, putting her hands on his wrists to keep him pinned, straddling his waist like she had done before, all those months ago. She gave him a slightly savage smile, "_Well_, Reaver... if you would be dull, you can hardly blame me if my attention wanders a little, can you?"

A flash of anger went through the dark green eyes below her, and she smiled. Apparently she still had an effect on him. That was good to know.

A hand came up, securing itself hard onto her throat. Her head tilted back slightly and her smile grew. He opened his mouth, and she roughly pushed a finger over his lips, "Shh Reaver. Don't spoil it, now."

She waited a second, and then sat back, allowing his hand to slide off her neck, ending up on her shoulder. Then, slowly, she slipped her dress off over her head. She watched him closely, then dipped down, kissing the side of his face and gently biting his ear.

Reaver used his spare hand to grab her by the back of the neck, yanking her lips across onto his. She jerked her head back out of his grip and laughed. There went his impeccable patience... She took the pirate king's wrist again, and her hands slowly put more pressure onto him, keeping him down. She smirked. If this was the path she was going to take... she may as well enjoy it.

* * *

Everything was silent. Liliana rolled onto her back, staring at the cherry wood ceiling. A dull ache snuck through her muscles, and she relished it. Little in the last few months had been able to leave her feeling even the slightest fatigue. She was going to end up completely useless if this continued.

At any rate, she welcomed the distraction. She stretched until she could feel the deep bite on her shoulder throb. Well. He was an interesting one, at least...

A hand touched her arm, and she twitched round, taken aback.

Reaver had pushed himself upright on his shoulder, turning to face her. She looked him over for a moment. At some point in the last three minutes, he had got dressed, pulling an open shirt on over a pair of trousers. She was still a little surprised at how quietly and quickly he could move.

He smirked, "Jumpy?"

Liliana smiled and stretched out on the bed, luxuriously, "Not particularly."

Reaver's eyes moved over her, almost curiously, and then his smile grew, "Seems I've finally worn you out."

She nodded, thoughtfully, and stretched again, "You certainly leave your mark, that's true."

He laughed, shaking his head, "Perhaps I should apologise?"

"And here was I just about to say the same thing." He frowned at her, and she shook her head, her smile fading, "I am truly sorry to do this to you, Reaver. But you really did leave me no choice."

"Mmm?" his voice sounded perfectly casual, but there was the slightest hint of caution in his eyes, "How's that, my dear?

Liliana sat up, putting her back against the wall, drawing the sheet up a little to cover her body, "You've behaved. It's quite unreasonable of you. I was hoping your frankly infuriating behaviour would have you confined to the dungeons for the majority of your stay. But you behaved." She paused a beat, and then shook her head, "So I am sorry."

"For what?"

She turned to him, very deliberately, putting a hand on his cheek, "For this."

* * *

To his credit, Reaver didn't jump when the door opened, but his eyes did widen a little as Kenton walked straight into the room.

Perhaps, if circumstances were different and he wasn't working for the royal creep who'd locked her and her only family in a castle and continuously tortured them both to death, Liliana would almost feel guilty for the deliberately impassive look on the boy's face.

Or maybe she'd have to be a whole different person for that. She _was_ a _pirate_, after all. A manipulator.

Quickly, she jerked her hand back from Reaver's face. She paid incredible care to make sure the movement was not too fast, not too slow. Surprised, but not shocked.

The exact right length of pause before she opened her mouth. "Never heard of knocking on a lady's door, sir?" she said, quietly.

Reaver glanced at her, obviously remembering the words. Then he seemed to pull back the arrogance, and looked back at the courier, smiling warmly, "Kenton! What a surprise!" then he cocked his head to the side and winked, "Care to join us?"

Kenton's face remained blank. Liliana kept her eyes on him. Her muscles tightened. She had to be careful, here. There were so many variables... so many ways he could react.

Kenton stalked forwards and held out a hand. Immediately, Reaver raised his hands to his throat, choking a little, struggling with an invisible grip.

The Will grip forced the ex pirate king to his feet, dragged him over to the door. Kenton stood still and watched, eyes cold, and took a much realer grip on the pirate's collar. He turned round, silently, pulling Reaver along with him.

Liliana got swiftly to her feet, pulling the dress back over her bare body, moving a few steps towards them, "Wait! Where are you taking him?"

Kenton glanced over his shoulder. "To the King of Blades." His voice was impassive. Calm. "He will decide his fate."

"Stop." The boy turned back again. Liliana licked her lips, uneasily. Then she shook her head, "Kenton. You don't have to do this."

His eyes flashed, "Neither did _you_." She flinched back a little, just a little. Kenton shook his head, "The King will be furious."

Liliana took in a slow breath, "Yes. Yes he will. Which is exactly why you won't tell him."

"What makes you think I won't?" he asked, his voice deathly quiet.

"Because I'm asking you." The boy just looked at her. She shook her head again, "Take him to the dungeons. There's no way I can get to him there."

Kenton raised an eyebrow. "You want him thrown in a cell?"

"It's better than him being killed." She replied, quickly.

There was a long silence. Kenton put his hand up, retaking the grip of Will on Reaver's throat. Then he moved away, walking towards her, slowly. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, finally.

"I'm asking you, Kenton." She said, quietly. "Please."

He just stared at her.

"Kenton..." she cleared her throat a little, looking at the floor. Then she tried again, "Kenton. I... I know that..."

"Enough." She silenced immediately. He shook his head, "Why would you want to spare him?" she looked at him, and he shook his head again, "You're trying to trick me."

"_I_ am trying to save my friend's _life_." She took half a step towards him. "Please, Kenton. Don't tell him. Just this once, please."

There was a long pause. "_Friend_?"

Liliana looked at the floor again. She thanked all gods that were listening that Reaver had so far decided to remain quiet. Then she glanced up, "Reaver saved my life during the shipwreck."

She muttered it. Kept her voice quiet and between the two of them.

Kenton raised an eyebrow, and then shook his head, derisively, "What worth is saving someone's life if they can't _die_?"

"Yes, but I didn't _know_ about that then, _did_ I." Liliana shook her head, "He tried to help me keep back the storm. And he pulled my body from the wreckage afterwards."

"You're lying. It was Blade."

"I'm not." She replied, simply. "It was him." He frowned at her, and she shook her head again, "I can tell when a man lies to me, Kenton. And I know when I'm being double-bluffed."

Kenton looked at her. "He saved you."

"Yes."

"So you slept with him as thanks."

She didn't flinch this time. Just looked at him. Her heart rate had actually picked up a little. That was new.

Kenton turned his back. He walked back to the door, taking Reaver again by the collar. The pirate king was watching her closely. She didn't meet his eyes, instead locking her gaze onto the black-haired head.

The King's courier pulled open the door.

"Kenton." The boy stopped. He didn't turn round. Liliana took in a breath. "Will you tell him?"

Kenton didn't speak. He paused. Then he left, taking Reaver with him.

Liliana turned away from the door, moving back to the bed. Then she smiled, knowing the answer already.


End file.
